The Trouble with Redheads
by aestheticedits5813
Summary: Emma Nolan loves her family, especially her five-year-old niece Alexandra who she is raising after her sister Ashley died. Times are tough, so Emma prays she's got it all under control. Life is quiet in the little fishing town of Storybrooke, maybe too quiet for the new boathouse tenant, an adrenaline junkie Coast Guard: Killian Jones who has an aversion to redheads like Emma.


This is the story penned by Lisa Carter, "Coast Guard Courtship" but modified a bit so that Carter's characters are replaced by OUAT characters. This project was inspired by Carter's book, Killian's interaction with little Alexandra at the diner, and Jennifer Morrison's post-season 6 auburn hair. This is a Captain Swan story appropriate for all ages, I think.

Disclaimer: Not my plot, not my characters, just my editing abilities. Enjoy!

Bone weary after sitting up half the night with her niece Alexandra, Emma closed her eyes with a sigh. The gentle blue-green waters of the tidal creek lapped against the sides of her small fishing boat. Rocked her in the soothing cradle of the waves she'd known since birth.

She savored the silence broken only by the scratching of the sand crabs on the nearby barrier island. A breeze wafted past her nose, smelling of sea salt and brine. She'd hurried this cold April morning for the chance to anchor in the crystal cove overlooking her favorite spot among the ruins of the deserted coastal village.

Emma loved her life, her home, and her family. Especially Alexandra, affectionately nicknamed Alex. Unfortunately for the strawberry-blonde little girl, her father had never been in the picture and her mother, Ashley, died last year. So the oldest Nolan sister, Emma, stepped in as Alex's guardian. Emma had always been her family's guardian, putting their needs ahead of her own. Some folks thought her stubbornness was a trait she inherited from her ancestors, just the way she had inherited their crimson locks. But there was protectiveness in her too, and it could be overwhelming at times, making her feel like she was the glue holding together her family and their way of life. So, sometimes Emma craved the isolation of this forgotten shore. Here in the rhythm of the tide, she could be just Emma.

She'd stolen this opportunity to photograph the migratory birds in their yearly stopover on the barrier island. Images she'd transfer to her sketch pad while her charter boat clients fished during the upcoming flounder season.

Emma had spent most of her life fishing and swimming in these waters. But Alex hadn't. It'd be July before the water truly warmed. And her five-year-old niece wasn't robust enough for even the shallow drifts of the channel.

Gripping the camera strapped about her neck, she scanned the marsh for signs of life. She peered through the cordgrass across the channel that separated the wildlife refuge from her home on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. The air hung thick with early-morning fog snaking above the dark waters of the wetlands.

Emma's hand caught hold of the railing of the _Now I Sea_ as a gust of the ever-present wind buffeted her against the side of the boat. Beyond the dunes on the other side of the island, ocean waves churned. Churned like her thoughts these days about what the doctor's report would say. About whether she and Alex had another summer ahead of them to comb the beach for sea glass.

Or if time had run out.

A gaggle of birds darted upward, cawing to each other. She jerked. Her eyes swept over the rotting stumps of the island dock and the long-abandoned husks of boats moldering on the beach. She gazed across the remaining stone foundations on the sandy rise. Like the village, she'd suffered so many losses.

Please, God, not Alex. Whatever You want from me, I'll do. Just please don't take Alex, too.

Her Wellingtons squelched on the fiberglass deck as she padded over to the controls. She gripped the helm and, turning the ignition, brought the engine to life. Above the chugging of the motor, she pointed the bow once more toward her home in Storybrooke. To where chores awaited, where Dad needed reminding to take his medicine, where Elsa needed to be straightened out about returning to college next fall. And since Emma's fiancé, Neal, had died, back to the bleakness of her own possibilities.

She cast one final glance over her shoulder as the barrier island receded. One fine summer day she and Alex would return here. Fourth of July, maybe. They'd have a picnic. Hunt for shells. And she'd paint the landscape to her heart's content while Alex ran up and down the dunes. Happy, healthy. Whole.

One fine day... God willing. She lifted her chin and headed home.

Borne aloft on the prevailing winds, seagulls whirled in graceful figure eights above the cab of his truck. Killian Jones kneaded the wheel, glancing out the window over the railing of the bridge, where the Chesapeake Bay sparkled like glittering diamonds in the sunshine. He gazed upward at one lone bird whose shadow hovered above his windshield.

"Just so long as you don't—"

Splat.

Great. Story of his life.

"And welcome to the Eastern Shore of Virginia to you, too, my friend." He grimaced at the whitish excrement dotting his windshield.

His Ford F-250 bumped and jolted over the last hump of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, which spanned the watery distance between Virginia Beach and the Delmarva peninsula composed of parts of Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware. A string of islands, shoals and spits dotted the ocean side. An archipelago, he'd been told, of uninhabited isles.

At one point in a narrow stretch along Highway 13 heading north, he sighted the bay to his left and the Atlantic on his right. Leaving Northampton County and the signs for Coast Guard Station Cape Charles behind, he crossed into Accomack County. A few miles later, he veered off the main artery at Nassawadox toward Seaside Road, per David Nolan's instructions.

Passing fields, barns and farmhouses, he crossed the small bridge at Quinby. He skirted the hamlet of Wachapreague, hugging the shoreline, and headed toward the coastal village of Storybrooke. He'd report for duty tomorrow to the officer in charge at the small boat station.

He drove around the village square occupied by a cupola-topped gazebo. Not much to the fishing village. A post office. A white-steepled clapboard church. Victorian homes meandered off side lanes lined with beginning-to-leaf-out trees.

So this was Storybrooke...

Killian steered the nose of his truck into an empty parking slot designed for vehicles towing boats. He threw open the cab door and got out. Hands on his hips, he surveyed the marina with its aging pier, the bait store, Granny's Diner (and Bed & Breakfast) and the boat repair shop where he'd meet David and get the key to his rental. Coast Guard Station Storybrooke hunkered just across the parking lot, with rapid-response boats tied and at the ready on an adjacent dock.

Not exactly like his last digs in Station Miami. Or even Kodiak before that.

Killian slammed the cab door shut to silence its dinging. He consoled himself with the promise that this smaller, isolated CG station was a chance to grow his leadership skills and continue the stellar trajectory his career had been on since he'd enlisted in the United States Coast Guard a dozen years ago. A matter of killing time here before rotating out to bigger assignments.

He filled his lungs with the bracing sea air. Not so bad. Not the most exciting place he'd ever quartered, but as long as he could hear the crash of the waves, he'd do fine. And there was the added bonus of finding a furnished cabin for rent by David Nolan, who offered free docking for his boat since the station didn't offer housing for unmarried personnel and staying at the tourist-frequented Bed and Breakfast was not conducive to his his business of overseeing the wayfaring habits of said tourists. A Coastie issuing a citation to one of the area's visitors may lead to an unfortunate interaction in the hallways of the small inn.

Killian's first love, the sea, remained the only love in his life that hadn't let him down. Give Killian his boat, the rhythm of the sea and, as one poet had phrased it, "a star to steer by," and he was good. Better than good. Women were trouble he didn't need in his life.

Pushing off from his truck, Killian caught sight of an older man in jeans and a plaid shirt tinkering with a boat engine in one of the garage bays of the repair shop.

Killian strode forward, hand outstretched. "Mr. Nolan?"

The man straightened. His bristly gray brows constricted before easing as recognition dawned. His thick mustache curved upward and he thrust his hand, hard with calluses, at Killian. "You must be Killian Jones." David Nolan laughed,. "I mean Executive First Class Petty Officer Killian Jones."

Killian smiled and shrugged. "Since you're not a Coastie and I'm not in uniform, I think we can let that bit of protocol lapse." His stomach rumbled and he reddened. "Sorry. It's been a long time since breakfast."

"Thought that might be the case." David nudged his chin toward a white paper bag lying next to a tool case.

"One of my daughters fixed you a little snack from Granny's Diner. You haven't lived till you've had A long-john doughnut."

"One of your daughters?"

David grimaced. "One of my many daughters."

Killian lifted his eyebrow.

David clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe after you get settled into the cabin, you and I can have a quick lunch at the diner and you can meet my daughter who works there.. But first...I'd like to introduce you to a few of Storybrooke's citizens."

They ambled past the diner toward the Storybrooke wharf, where motorboats and small fishing vessels docked alongside the pier. Weather-beaten men paused in the midst of cleaning decks or replenishing bait buckets. Conversations halted as Killian passed. Pink-cheeked women poked their heads out of the bait shop and joined the menfolk. In a small town like this, most everyone already knew he'd come to serve as the executive petty officer to the OIC at Station Storybrooke.

And for those who didn't know who Killian was, David Nolan appeared determined to rectify the oversight. His paw clamped on to Killian's shoulder, he introduced Killian to each of the crusty sea dogs. A gesture Killian appreciated.

Though their services were valued, the Guardsmen oftentimes remained outsiders in these close-knit fishing communities until given the proverbial seal of approval by a prominent local. David had obviously taken it upon himself to do the honors.

Might come in handy and keep tempers in check, if he ever had occasion to issue citations to any of these watermen for safety violations on their vessels. Surveying the Storybrooke citizens, Killian was taken aback at the many variations on a theme of red hair among the men and women both, ranging from cinnamon-coated gingers and carrot tops to full-blown titians.

Killian sighed. He had a checkered past with red heads, one female in particular.

One Storybrooke matron propped her hands on her substantial hips. "David Nolan, your tomboy going to blow a gasket when she finds out about this here Coastie."

David shuffled his feet.

Killian frowned. "Sir? What's she—?"

"Women." David cast a furtive look out to sea. "Don't try to understand them, son. May I call you son?"

Killian nodded, dazed. He cleared his throat, wondering exactly how many daughters David Nolan possessed. Or, rather, how many possessed him?

Either way, it promised to be an interesting living arrangement for the duration.

"Don't try to understand them." David shook his head. "All you can do is love them." But he slapped Killian on the back.

Killian winced.

Message received loud and clear. Mess with David Nolan's daughters, mess with David Nolan.

David pulled Killian off the pier and back toward the repair shop.

David fished a brass key out of the front pocket of his faded jeans. "Here, Mr. Jones."

With some trepidation, Killian took the key from David's hand. "Call me Killian, please, Mr. Nolan."

David smiled. "There's clean linens in the cabin. Don't forget breakfast and dinner are included at the main house. And the girls would appreciate a phone call if you won't make it for dinner."

"Aye sir.. I'd better get unpacked and my boat docked. I'd like to check out the lay of the land, so to speak, and meet the crew at the station, too."

"Still got those directions I emailed you? Don't forget this, either." David handed Killian the white paper bag. "This ought to tide you over till that lunch we talked about."

Killian's mouth lifted, as he opened the bag filled with fried dough rolled in cinnamon and sugar. Not exactly like his usual favorite bear claw, but still his nose twitched appreciatively at the aroma. He licked his lips and waved the bag. "Thanks for this."

Shore assignment. Breakfast and dinner every day sounded promising.

Been years since he'd profited from home-cooked meals on a regular basis.

"You're welcome, XPO Killian Jones." David gave him a two-fingered salute. "But most of all, welcome to our corner of paradise."

Killian raised his brows as he parted from David and strolled toward his truck.

Paradise? Storybrooke?

The tide was still out on that one.

The engine purred as she headed up the tidal creek toward home. As she rounded the neck, Emma spotted the sailboat docked in her usual slip at the pier. Easing in the _Now I Sea_ , she secured the moorings and clambered out onto the weathered gray planks of the dock. She took in the sleek hull of the vessel, its immaculate paint job and deck appearance.

Expensive...

The home port painted on the bow read Miami, Florida, and the boat was christened—she blinked once to make sure she hadn't read the name wrong— _The Trouble with Redheads_.

"Humph." She tucked an errant strand of red hair behind her ear.

Who in the world?

Dad would be at the shop, Elsa at the diner and Alex at kindergarten. Although after last night she'd assumed—incorrectly, given Alex's indignant protests at six o'clock this morning—that she'd be skipping school today.

Nowadays, people didn't usually arrive by boat, but via the road. So who...?

She grabbed hold of a long grappling hook and wended her way toward the house. Passing her Jeep, she stalked the perimeter of her home. And home to seven generations of Nolans, Virginia watermen one and all.

During the past century, Northern steel magnates roughed it at the Nolans' fishermen's lodge while her ancestors oystered and served as hunting guides in the winter. Crabbed and ran charters in the summer. But those days, and the steamers from Wachapreague to New York City, had long ago passed.

She rounded the corner of the two-story wraparound Victorian. Shade trees studded the front yard. She followed the property line rimmed by a white wooden fence into the trees. Light spilled from the old boat shed.

A squatter? Thieves? Pirates?

Emma's lips tightened.

Her drawings were in there. The one place where nobody in her crazy family bothered her. Her refuge during the long winter months when her problems stacked as high as crab pots and the water proved too choppy to venture from shore. Her father had always encouraged her art, but seeing it made him feel bad she'd quit school to take care of Mom, then Alex and now him after his heart attack last fall.

So Emma had confined her drawing to the boat and stashed the sketches in the abandoned boat shed. She'd spent hours laboring over each angled nuance, scale and perspective of the wildlife and people that populated her Eastern Shore world. But with taking care of Alex, who was always fighting colds due to her compromised immune system, and getting ready for the upcoming charter season, she'd not had the time to indulge in her art over the past month.

Emma set her jaw.

Those drawings belonged to her. Not great art, but they were all she had left—the drawings and Alex. And she'd be keelhauled before she'd allow someone to steal what little remained of her youthful hopes and dreams.

Gripping the hooked stick, she approached the cabin. Oyster shells crunching beneath her boots, she sidled to the small porch and stretched beyond the bottom step to the second tread to avoid its telltale creak. She curled her fingers around the door handle, the metal cold against her palm. Rotating the knob, she pushed it open and held her breath.

Nothing.

Poking her head inside first and observing no sign of life, she followed with the rest of her body. The sound of running water from what had once been a kitchen drew her toward the back of the three-room structure. She pressed her spine flat against the interior wall. A faucet valve squeaked, and the sound of running water ceased.

One of the ladder-back chairs scraped away from the table she'd claimed as her art bench. Paper crackled. She closed her eyes, both hands clutching the stick, and prayed for courage. Taking a deep breath, she lunged hook first around the door frame in an ancestor-worthy yell last heard at Gettysburg.

A man—a tall, handsome man, early thirties, whose broad shoulders tapered to the waist of his Coast Guard uniform—jolted to his feet.

The chair crashed to the floor. A long john hung from his gaping mouth. His eyes, as blue as the sky, were the size of sand dollars.

She jabbed the hook in his direction. "Wh-who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm—" He choked, the doughnut lodging in his throat. His eyes bulged. He bent over the table, gasping for air. His face turned an interesting shade of puce.

Emma dropped the stick, letting it clatter to the floor. Stepping forward, she whacked him across the massive planes of his back.

He went into an apoplexy of hacking.

Without a second's thought, she wrapped her arms around his middle, locked her hands together at his midsection. With an upthrust, she squeezed once, then again. The doughnut sailed out of his mouth and landed with a thud against the wall.

Sputtering, he collapsed against the table. Glaring, he twisted away, sidestepping her, and in one smooth motion snatched at the stick between their feet.

Her breath hitching, she realized her mistake and dived for it at the same moment his hands grasped hold. Her hand tingled from the inadvertent contact with his, but she tugged, refusing to let go. He held on, his chest heaving.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Let go."

She gritted her teeth. "You let go first."

"Fine." He held both hands, palm up. "I don't know what your problem is, lass, or who you think I am, but I "have a rental agreement that says I have the right to be here on a month-to-month basis. And that includes breakfast and dinner." He gestured at the table.

She stared at the key on the table, a key Dad usually kept hanging on a pegboard in the mudroom of the house. Through the window, she glimpsed a black F-250.

"What's going on? Who are you?"

He pointed to the name embroidered on his Coastie-blue uniform. "Jones. Killian Jones. David Nolan..."

Terrific.

A handsome Coastie, who, judging by his lilting accent, was a Brit, too has taken up residence in one of her last sanctuaries of sanity.

She chewed at her lip. This had her sister Elsa written all over it, too. What had Elsa and Dad been up to while she'd been coping with Alex's treatments and keeping the business afloat?

For the first time, she became aware of the pungent aroma of fresh paint. A bouquet of daffodils graced the countertop. She rolled her eyes. Yep, Elsa Nolan had been here. The Eastern Shore's own Martha Stewart.

He groaned. "Don't tell me you're the other Nolan sister?"

Emma winced.

Story of her life.

Emma smoothed her hand down the side of her faded jeans and frowned at the encrusted fish guts. "I'm Emma." She squared her shoulders. "And yes, I am the other Nolan sister."

His eyes raked over Emma from her marsh mud–splattered boots to the top of her head. Flushing, she skimmed stray tendrils of hair from her face and tightened her ponytail.

Once, just once, she wished she could pull off pretty like Ashley, or ultra-feminine like Elsa. Anything less frumpy and more aesthetically pleasing.

All she ever managed was "good ole buddy grungy crabber." She licked her dry lips, wishing she possessed some of Elsa's lip gloss. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

Great first impression, Nolan. Especially with someone so...collected? Gorgeous? Masculine?

She glanced up to find the Coastie's gaze fixed on her hair. Her heart hammered.

"What's with this place?" Killian ran a hand through his dark hair. "Should've known you'd be another redhead."

Her eyebrows curved. "What did you say?"

Killian folded his arms across his chest.

Emma jabbed her thumb toward the dock. "I take it that sailboat out there is yours?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded.

"And just what have you got against redheads?"

"I think my boat speaks for itself." He cocked his head at the grappling hook in her hands. "Redheads are nothing but trouble, plain and simple."

She curled her lip. "By the way, you're welcome."

"For what?"

"For saving your life."

His mouth dropped open. "You didn't..."

She pointed at the doughnut lying against the baseboard.

He tightened his lips. "Thanks for saving my life, Ms. Nolan."

"Don't mention it."

She inspected him from the top of his head to his regulation black shoes. And something in her face told him she found him wanting. Heat crept up his neck.

He clenched his jaw. "Someday I'll try to return the favor."

She shook her head.

"Sorry. The only one who saves me, is me."

He uncrossed his arms and took a step back.

Killian's eyes traveled over Emma Nolan—her clothing, her boots, her

face.

Her hair.

Not a slave to fashion, he guessed, with her ragged-at-the-knee blue jeans tucked into the navy blue Wellingtons. And that gosh-awful neon yellow slicker, which clashed with her wind-tossed red hair.. As he'd wrestled her for the grappling hook, the scent of seawater, mud marsh and...something else...brought the Florida Keys to mind.

Tall for a woman, with an athletic build. Late twenties, maybe. A sprinkle of freckles—the bane of redheads, in his considerable and unfortunate experience—dotted the bridge of her nose. Temper and redheaded attitude—he shot another glance at the grappling hook—in abundance.

If this was God's idea of a joke, it was a bad one from his point of view. Good thing he preferred petite, feminine women.

Suddenly a phone warbled a country twang and the lyrics "Cinderella said to Snow White how does love get so off course…"

An awkward moment passed as the song continued to talk about a woman's dream of romance. Killian's eyebrows shot up into his hairline as Emma's eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment. She fished through the pockets of her rain slicker.

Blushing, she extricated her cell. But flustered, her fingers fumbled. She dropped the phone on a phrase "It's the way you love me..." The cell skidded across the table.

"Love, huh?" He smirked and shoved the phone in her direction. "Interesting choice of ringtone, Nolan."

She ignored him, seizing hold of the cell. "Elsa must have changed it.." She stabbed the talk button as Faith Hill belted, "This Kiss!"

"Hello? This is—" She swung away. "Is Alexandra okay?"

Killian frowned at the concern lacing her voice.

"I'll be right there. Thanks for calling." Pushing the off button, she headed for the door.

Killian caught her arm. "Is everything okay? Can I help?"

Lines of weariness carved grooves around her lovely rosebud mouth. She shook her head, the red waves coming loose, falling in soft tendrils around her face. "I'll take care of it. I need to pick up Alex at school. She's not feeling—" Her face constricted. "I shouldn't have let her go to school today."

Alex?

Feeling sucker punched, he removed his hand from her arm. She had a daughter? A husband, too?

Duh...children and husbands usually went together, Jones.

This redhead was someone else's headache.

Which didn't make him feel any better.

He snapped his fingers. "Key lime pie." She smelled like—

"Excuse me?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

A bleak expression in her eyes, she rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. "Dinner's at six. I'll see you then?"

"Eighteen hundred. I'll be there."

"Don't expect haute cuisine." She cut her eyes at him, a challenge animating her face once more. "The redheaded Nolans are plain and simple folks."

As she exited the cabin, he followed her onto the porch, watching her disappear through the cover of trees. So that was Emma Nolan. Gutsy. Tough as a sea barnacle. She'd have made a great Guardsman. He stroked his chin, admiring her strength. Able to take care of anything life threw her way.

But who took care of her?

Rounding the square, Killian caught sight of David Nolan standing in front of Granny's Diner. The older man stared through the plate-glass window, shielding his eyes with his hand.

"Glancing at his watch, Killian figured he had enough time to find out what was up with Emma Nolan before visiting Station Storybrooke just across the street.

Parking, Killian exited his truck. Gravel crunched. "Mr. Nolan? Sir?"

David Nolan jerked and whipped around. "Oh." His shoulders relaxed. "Already been to the cabin and back, huh?"

Killian pursed his lips. "Interesting little reception committee you've got there in your older daughter, Mr. Nolan. You might've warned me." He narrowed his eyes. "Or at least warned her to expect me."

David's eyes widened. "You met Emma?" He rubbed his hand over his jawline stubble. "Thought she'd be on the water till lunchtime."

"What's going on here, Mr. Nolan?" Killian rocked onto his heels. "Does our rental agreement still stand or not?"

"Course it does." David attempted a weak laugh. "You introduced yourselves to each other, I take it, son?"

Killian grimaced. "Aye.. Name, rank and serial number, right after she threatened me with a harpoon."

David's Adam's apple bobbed. "Sorry about that. Emma is a bit over-protective. And feisty."

"And potentially lethal to unwelcome visitors."

David swung open the glass-fronted door of the diner. "She'll come around. She always does. Just got to give that one time."

Not to mention a wide berth, Killian resolved as he allowed David to usher him inside.

"Still early for lunch, but I probably owe you a cup of joe for your trouble this morning."

After almost being skewered, Killian reckoned David might owe him more than that. But he paused in the doorway, inhaling the hearty smells of eggs,, fried potatoes and ham. Probably the good Smithfield, Virginia, ham he'd read about as he'd ambled up I-95. The continental thing people called breakfast at the roadside motel in Virginia Beach this morning seemed like hours ago.

He and David shuffled past green vinyl booths packed with some of the same men and women he'd met earlier at the marina.

"And here's my daughter Elsa." David gestured toward a young blonde woman whose name was embroidered name on the retro 1950s waitress uniform. On second thought, maybe not so retro in Storybrooke.

A young Guardsman leaned his elbows on the counter on either side of his coffee mug, smiling in Elsa's direction.

Beside Killian, David Nolan went rigid.

The Guardsman grinned at Elsa Nolan. "Always ready... That's our motto..."

David growled. "Ready to chase every skirt in Storybrooke, you mean."

The twenty-something Coastie swung around on the stool. His eyes narrowed.

David hustled Killian forward, blocking the Guardsman's view of Elsa. "This is Killian, Elsa. He's already…"

The Guardsman elbowed Killian aside. "Oi, you git, I was here fir—"

Killian went ramrod stiff and broadened his shoulders. "Boatswain's Mate Third Class—" he scrutinized the surname on the fellow Coastie's uniform "—Scarlet. Did you just shove and insult your XPO?"

The boy's eyes widened at the stripes on Killian's sleeve. "Kil...Killian." His voice cracked and his sunburned features turned a color akin to eggplant. "Executive Petty Officer Killian Jones? I didn't realize-"

Scarlet leaped to his feet and rammed the side of his hand into his forehead. "Boatswain's Mate Third Class Petty Officer Will Scarlet." His brown eyes pinned a spot on the far wall above Killian's head.

Killian acknowledged his salute with one of his own. "At ease, Scarlet."

Scarlet spread-eagled his hips, both arms grasped behind his back.

"Just finished your two days on rotation, Scarlet?" Killian studied his watch. "Or just getting ready to report to your watch this time of the morning?"

Scarlet swallowed. Hard. "Aye, Petty Officer Jones. On a long-john run for the OIC."

"Then I suggest you discontinue making a public nuisance of yourself and get to Station Storybrooke ASAP." Killian crossed his arms. "We'll continue this conversation at the station later, and perhaps—" he blew a slow breath out from between his lips "—review CG standards for fraternization and respect for the local populace."

Scarlet gave a short, emphatic nod.

"Was that an affirmative, Boatswain's Mate? Do you read me?"

"Aye, Petty Officer Jones. Loud and clear. Permission to be dismissed?"

"Granted."

Snatching his cap off the counter, Scarlet, with a sharp pivot, exited the diner with a whoosh of air and a jingle of the bell.

Killian angled toward his new landlord. "I'm sorr—"

Elsa lobbed a napkin at her father. "Did you have to embarrass Will in front of his XPO, Dad?" She picked up Scarlet's abandoned fork.

Killian stepped back.

"Now, Elsa." David threw up his hands. "After what your sisters went through, I'm not big on Coasties."

Her blue eyes darkened. "Will's not like that!."

David folded his arms over his chest. "They're all like that, Elsa." He flung Killian an apologetic look. "Begging your pardon, Killian. No offense intended."

"None taken, Mr. Nolan."

"Please, call me David." David swiveled to his daughter and leaned over the counter. "Killian ran into Emma at the cabin."

Elsa sucked in a quick breath. "How'd that go?"

Killian scowled. "About as well as you'd expect at the end of a harpoon."

Elsa rolled her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Jones. I'd hoped we could ease in an introduction tonight between dinner and pie."

"Killian," he huffed. "Since if anything happens to me, I assume you two will be the ones making my funeral arrangements."

Elsa shook her head. "Don't you worry. Emma will come around. May take some time, but she always gets on board eventually."

Killian sighed. "That's what your father said."

Elsa grabbed a coffee mug. "I'll give her a call." She reached for a nearby coffeepot warming on a burner. "You've had an eventful morning. You need a jolt of java to tide you over."

"No, thanks." Killian held up a hand. "I'm headed to the station. And your sister got a call from Alex's school. She's headed there to pick her up."

David's hand clenched on the back on the chair Scarlet had vacated.

Elsa's lower lip trembled. "Was she upset?" She fingered her apron. "Of course she was upset. I mean, was she crying upset?"

David frowned. "'Emma doesn't cry. Never has. Was Alex okay?"

Killian threw him a long look. "She said Alex wasn't feeling well." His gaze swung to Elsa. Something was going on here that he didn't understand. "And no, she wasn't crying."

David nodded. "She'll handle it, then. Got it under control. She's not a crier."

Elsa bit her lip. "Might be better if she did." Straightening her shoulders, Elsa lifted the top of a glass cake stand filled with pastries. "If you won't take some coffee, why don't you help yourself to another long john, Killian?"

The image of crimson waves of hair flashed across Killian's mind. The gutsy, harpoon-wielding married Nolan sister, he reminded himself. As for doughnuts?

After the near-choking incident at the cabin...too soon.

Too soon for a lot of things.

Refusing, Killian promised to be on time for dinner and hurried toward the station, where at this point, the sea appeared more predictable than life amid the Nolan clan.

At Station Storybrooke, a female seaman apprentice with long red curly locks vacated Dispatch and ushered him into the chief petty officer's office. Killian saluted.

Throwing down papers, the fifty-something Locksley rose from his chair behind the utility desk and returned Killian's salute. "At ease, Jones."

Killian assumed the position, legs hip-width apart, hands clasped behind his back.

"Welcome to Station Storybrooke." Locksley offered his hand. "A day early for your watch rotation. I'm pleased to have you serving here as my executive petty officer."

Killian shook his hand. "Just wanted to stop by and say hello. Meet the duty personnel today." The older man smiled, hearing Killian's accent.

"Always nice to have another expat onboard, although my wife often tells me I am becoming more of native what with those delicious long-John doughnuts Scarlet brings in. I've even been known to drink iced tea from time to time."

Killian furrowed his brows a bit, at the mention of the young boatswain's name, but the Chief didn't seem to notice the change in the XPO's expression and continued, "It has quite a bit of sweetener in it, but I find jogging around this little town burns it off pretty easily."

Killian allowed a small smile to creep into the corner of his mouth at how much his commanding officer reminded him of his landlord.

"So, I've reviewed your record." His new chief motioned toward a file folder. "Heard more about you through the chain of command."

Killian winced. "About Florida, Chief..."

Chief Locksley waved a hand. "Good things, XPO. Good things. We're lucky to have you here at Small Boat Station Storybrooke, where we're tasked with search and rescue or maritime law enforcement of the recreational boating type, mainly." He laughed. "I only hope an adrenaline junkie like yourself won't be bored out of your wits."

Killian stiffened into attention once more. "I'm here to serve you, Chief, the Guard and the public."

Locksley eyed him. "Relax, Jones. No criticism intended. Somebody at headquarters thinks highly of your skills...and your potential for command."

Killian scrutinized Locksley. "Permission to speak freely, Chief?"

"Granted."

"Master Chief Silver was an old friend of my brother's. Both of us were assigned under his command in Kodiak. After my brother died, Master Chief made it his business to—" Killian licked his lips, searching for the right word "—shepherd my career."

A knock sounded.

Locksley shifted his gaze over Killian's shoulder. "Come."

Scarlet poked his head around the door frame. At the sight of his future XPO, Scarlet's face darkened. Killian pushed back his shoulders. Locksley's gaze darted between the two men.

"I take it you and our other England-born Coastie have already introduced yourselves." Locksley rounded the desk and took a single sheet of paper from Scarlet. He scanned the document. "No mayday?"

Scarlet shook his head. "Wife reported them missing when her husband's boat failed to arrive in Wilmington yesterday "She's been unable to contact them by radio for several days due to the nor'easter last week."

Killian stepped forward. His nerve endings vibrated with the familiar rush of excitement. "Chief?"

Locksley glanced up. "A twenty-eight-foot white center-console vessel with a red stripe, the _Abracadabra_ has done a vanishing act. Two men aboard sailed out of Cape May, New Jersey."

Chief Locksley angled toward Scarlet. "Get the boat crew to increase their patrols." He strode to a nautical map of the Eastern Shore tacked onto the office wall.

"Our range of operational territory in the Virginia Inside Passage extends from the tip of Assawoman Island south to the Great Machipongo Inlet." Locksley tapped his finger at the Atlantic Ocean and drew an imaginary line.

Scarlet stood at attention. "The cutter _Mako_ reports they spotted no sign of the _Abracadabra_ or any debris field on their way to their home port in Cape May, Chief."

Locksley tensed. "Has Sector Hampton Roads notified Air Station Elizabeth City, Boatswain's Mate?"

Scarlet nodded. "Affirmative, Chief."

Locksley pursed his lips. "Good. Time to call out the big guns. Dismissed, Scarlet."

"Yes, Chief." And Scarlet headed out toward the radio room.

The female Coastie watch stander—DunBroch, Killian noted for future reference—returned to remind the chief of his appointment at the Storybrooke marina for the annual blessing of the fleet.

"You should attend, Jones." Locksley dismissed DunBroch.

Killian pursed his lips. "Is that an order, Chief?"

Locksley favored him with a long, slow look. "No, not an order. A recommendation to get to know the locals you'll be serving. I hear you'll be staying at the Nolan place."

Killian nodded.

"Good people. I sent your details David's way when I received your orders and your request for a place to dock your boat."

"Th-thank you, sir." Killian flicked a glance in Locksley's direction. The jury was still out in his mind on the Nolans, one fiery red head in particular.

The OIC leaned against the corner of his desk. "Shore command isn't all bad, Jones. With only a sixteen-member crew, you'll be on the watch list, too. I usually work the seven-to-four watch. But we've all learned to do more with less."

Killian smiled. "It's the Coastie way."

He'd miss, though, the swell of the sea beneath the deck of the last cutter to which he'd been assigned. But Station Storybrooke would be another step toward qualifying for officer candidate school.

Locksley nodded. "Something to be said for getting home to dinner with the wife and kids every night, though."

Wife? Kids? Killian kept his opinions to himself about relational entanglements.

Locksley snorted. "Besides, I hear command's grooming you for bigger things. But there's maybe something here they want you to learn first."

"I promise I won't let you or the Guard down, Chief."

Locksley's granite face cracked into a smile. "Fishing's good here even off the station dock all year. Summers are busy. Winters slow. I expect the people who report to Station Storybrooke to be able to handle responsibility and take care of themselves. You do that, Jones, and you and I will get along great. You copy that?"

Killian straightened and went into a salute. "Copy that, Chief."

Leaving Nandua Elementary and Highway 13, Emma steered the Jeep toward Storybrooke. She wished for a do-over in meeting a particular XPO. Or better yet, to avoid him altogether.

"What's that?" Strapped in her booster seat, Alex pointed toward the marina, where a group gathered on the wharf.

Sailboats, fishing vessels and catamarans bobbed in the waters off the Storybrooke pier. Flags fluttered in the midmorning breeze. One small boat manned by Coasties harbored alongside. OIC Locksley stood near the podium, Reverend Hopper at his side.

Emma circled the town square and slowed to give Alex a better look-see. "I forgot today's when the Storybrooke Coast Guard chief blesses the fleet—" she sniffed "—such as it is, for the start of the fishing and tourist season."

"Alex wriggled underneath the booster's harness. "I wanna see."

She frowned at her niece in the rearview mirror. "Sit still, Alex. You need to go home and rest. Anybody too sick to go to school—"

"I'm not sick," she shouted. "Just tired."

Emma recoiled at the decibel level. "Don't yell at me, Alex. I can hear you perfectly—"

"I don't need to rest." She tugged at the safety catch. "I wanna see the Coasties like my dad."

Her dad... The good-for-nothing lowlife who'd deserted her sister and baby niece. But Ashley couldn't bear the thought of Alex going through life knowing they'd been abandoned so she invented a story about her ex that made him seem heroic, and deceased. Emma went along with the fairy tale at first to appease her youngest sister, then after Ashley died and Alex got sick it seemed cruel to take away her mental image of a hero instead of the real dishonorable coward of a Coastie he actually was.

Emma's mouth hardened. "Stop twisting the seat belt, Alexandra. We're going home and that's—"

Alex yelled at the top of her lungs.

A sound not unlike the one she'd employed against a certain petty officer this morning. But Alex's temper tantrums were a new outgrowth of the experimental treatments she'd endured over the winter.

Or, as David had insisted, they were his granddaughter's attempts to test the boundaries of Emma's parenting.

Although she supposed if she'd been subjected to as much pain as Alex in her short life, she'd be mad, too.

Perhaps she already was, judging from the way she'd attacked an innocent Guardsman this morning. Sometimes she wanted to yell and scream and throw things like Alex.

"When you yell like that—" she trained her eyes on the parking lot beside the diner "—I shut my ears."

The five-year-old stopped yelling, a silence so profound and sudden it was as if she'd switched off a faucet.

"We could park at the diner." She engaged the blinker, grateful for the reprieve to her nerve endings. "And watch from there."

"I didn't get to see the blessing last year, Mimi." The nickname that Ashley had given Emma in childhood when Ashley added the long "E" sound to all her family members names. Elsa became "Elsie", Anna became "Annie" and since "Emmie" was already the name of the family pet cat, Emma became "Mimi" Ashley passed those nicknames down to her precious little daughter.

Emma squinted at Alex in the mirror. "No, you didn't get to see the ceremony last year.."

"Because we were in..." Alex fell silent.

Putting the Jeep in Park, Emma swiveled to face Alex.

The little girl's lip trembled. "...that Hopkins hospital place."

Emma contemplated Alex's impossibly blue eyes, so like her sister Ashley's.

Emma blew out a breath. "Okay, Alex. We'll—"

"YAY!" She cheered.

Grimacing, Emma suspected she'd been handled by a strawberry blonde five-year-old. Slinging open her door and scrambling out, she stuck her key ring into her jeans. Emma placed her hand on the passenger door handle as Killian Jones reached for it, too.

"Here, let me—"

"I've got—"

Killian retreated a pace. "Thought I'd help get you to the ceremony on time."

She crossed her arms over her ribbed gray henley shirt. "I told you I don't need your help."

A little girl pounded on the door. She then pressed her little face against the glass, giving her lips and eyes the appearance of a puffer fish.

Emma sighed. "Alex..."

Killian laughed. "And I thought I'd introduce myself to another member of the Nolan clan."

"The crazy Nolan clan."

Her lips quirked. Soft pink lips, he also noticed.

"Be my guest." She gestured. "Proceed at your own risk."

Opening the door, he leaned in and unlatched the safety harness, freeing Alex from its confines. With a whoosh, Alex paratrooped to the ground.

Emma took firm control of her niece's shoulders. "Calm down, Alex."

The little girl squirmed, mutiny written across her face.

"This is the man I told you about, Alex. He's renting the cabin from Granddad and Aunt Elsie."

Killian dropped on one knee to Alex's level. His tropical-blue trousers brushed the gravel. "Killian Jones." He extended his hand to the girl, who giggled before wrapping her fingers around his hand and grinned. "I'm Alexandra Nolan."

The girl appeared tiny.. Skin and bones. Her hair, was a fair red, but fairly short. Pale, with dark purple smudges etched under her eyes. Fragile...

Killian lifted his gaze to Emma. "Another redhead, I see." She fisted her hands on her hips and glowered at him. Killian gave her a winsome smile. "Why, I bet you couldn't throw a rock in this place and not hit one."

"My dad was a Coastie like you." Alex extended her index finger at Killian's insignia with the crossed anchors. "But he was an electrician's mate."

Killian smiles. "You know a lot about the Coast Guard for someone so young."

Emma pulled Alex toward her.

"I'm going to be a Coastie one day." Alex yanked free. "Like my dad."

"Not just like your dad. He—" Emma bit her lip and fixed her eyes on the toes of her Wellingtons.

Something was going on Killian didn't understand. "Is your dad at sea?"

Alex jutted her jaw. "He died. But I'm going to be an electrician's mate too,. Or maybe a rescue swimmer."

Emma plucked at Alex's arm. "Come on, Alex. Aren't you in a rush to see the blessing of the fleet?" She took the girl's hand and guided her toward the crowded dock."

Killian fell in beside her. "At my last duty assignment, I got to drive the response boat as a coxswain." He peered out over the water, pensive. "Kind of miss the action and being a part of rescuing those in need. Now it looks as though I'll be stuck with administrative work most of the time, one of the downsides to higher rank."

Alex stopped in her tracks and big eyes shone up at Killian. "Could you teach me how to be a rescue swimmer, Mr. Jones? Mimi sometimes lets me help her drive the boat as her coxswain. But I really want to learn to dive."

Emma, feeling the anxiety over her Niece's fragile medical condition shook her head. "Alex..."

"Call me Killian, Alex." He shrugged. "Aren't you too young to be thinking about that? You've got plenty of time."

Emma flinched as if he'd struck her. Her mouth quivered. "Alex doesn't even know how to swim yet." She cupped the crown of the girl's head.

Alex threw off her hand. "'Cause you won't let me learn." Her blue eyes blazed.

"We've talked about that. You're not strong enough. Maybe next year..."

Alex scowled.

She softened her tone. "Besides, the water's too cold this time of year."

"I'm not a baby," Alex growled.

Killian furrowed his brows and tried to defuse the situation. "I'm sure your mother knows—"

Alex stamped her foot. "She's not my mother! My mom died!"

Hurt flickered across Emma's features.

Alex's nostrils flared and pointed angrily at Emma. "She's my aunt Mimi and she's not the boss of me! I'm not a baby anymore!"

Emma snatched at Alex's sleeve as heads rotated in their direction. "We'll talk about swimming later at home."

Alex jerked out of her grasp and huddled next to Killian. "I want to go to the ceremony with Killian, not you,"Mimi." Never bothering to lower her voice.

Killian raised his brows at Emma, seeking her direction as to his next move. She gave a tiny shake of her head. Tears welled in her eyes. "Let's not make a scene. Please, Alex?"

An unfamiliar tenderness threatened to swamp Killian's carefully constructed indifference.

Alex stared Emma down. Her shoulders slumped. "We'd better go closer so Alex can see better."

She slid Killian an uncertain sidelong glance. "If you're sure you don't mind...or not too busy."

Killian's pulse ratcheted a notch. "It's okay. No problem."

Emma gazed at him with those big green eyes of hers. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble on your first day."

Killian focused for a long moment on her eyes and processed the information he'd acquired via Alex. Not the girl's mother. Probably, therefore, judging by her lack of a wedding ring, not married. He tamped down an irrational surge of joy. Not that Killian was in the market for a woman. Especially a redheaded one.

"Here, Alex." Grasping her by her upper arms, Killian heaved the little girl atop his shoulders. Alex giggled and entwined her little legs around Killian's torso. "Best seat in the house, lass."

Alex grinned from ear-to-ear.

Chief Locksley took his place behind the podium. "Today we gather to bless these boats. We ask a blessing for those who work on them, for those who fish from these waters providing food to our country. For those who utilize these waters for recreation and pleasure."

His arm swept across the expanse toward the Coast Guard boat. "And to bless those who protect our nation and its citizens. I'm honored to be here today," Locksley intoned, "representing the United States Coast Guard." Locksley's cap visor gleamed in the sunlight. "My prayer for each of you is for fair winds..."

"And following seas," the crowd finished.

Killian squared his shoulders.

A devout man, this OIC. Reminded Killian of his brother. And Master Chief Silver..

Killian fidgeted. His arm brushed against Emma's shoulder and his heartbeat accelerated. Unsettled, he shoved his hands into his pockets. He needed to put a cork in his unexpected attraction to her. After all, he didn't do relationships. And this woman came loaded with complications.

A forty-something redheaded man—"Reverend Hopper," Emma whispered—ambled to the podium. His voice carried across the water."

"They're praying," Alex whispered in a volume only slightly softer than a foghorn. "Everybody, bow your head."

Killian darted his eyes at Emma. His lips twitched. She covered her mouth with her hand before lowering her lashes.

"We pray, O Lord, for every seafarer. Grant them Your strength and protection. Keep each safe as they face the perils of the sea.. Protect them from the dangers of the wind and the rain. Bring each soul safely home to the true harbor of Your peace.. Amen."

"Amen," murmured Emma, her hands clasped.

"Amen," extolled the Storybrooke residents.

Blond, gray, brunette—Killian sighed—and redheads bowed in prayer together.

Safe harbor? Was there such a thing? Here in Storybrooke?

"Amen," he whispered.

His first prayer since his brother's sudden death. Killian pondered what, exactly, God had in store for him in this tiny village on the shores of the Atlantic.

The ceremony ended with the tolling of the old ship's bell mounted on the edge of the wharf. The bell rang out over the water across the assorted vessels in the harbor. One toll for each Storybrooke waterman lost at sea.

Emma shuddered.

Too many lost over the years. Friends of her dad's, former schoolmates, and Neal. As the sounds floated skyward beyond the white-steepled church, she positioned herself to avoid facing kind-hearted Milah Cassidy, the mother of deceased fiancé.. Emma dug her nails into the palms of her hands, remembering their shared loss.

Killian gave her a sharp look. "Your family makes its living from the water, too?"

"Dad taught us to respect it. To never turn our backs on it or take it for granted. He equipped us to fight for survival when pitted against it when we must. To be prepared for its changing face."

Emma gestured toward the vessels anchored in the marina. "But every year the fleet grows smaller and the living gets harder to wrest from its depths. The crabs are overfished. The oysters infected."

She made a face. "And don't get the watermen started on the government regulations. In today's world, a true waterman must diversify. So I run the charter fishing trips since Dad got sick. He does part-time work for the boat repair shop."

Killian quirked an eyebrow. "And Elsa works at the diner in addition to running her own small Bed and Breakfast."

Her lips curled a fraction. "I suppose when you put it that way..." She patted Alex's knee, perched atop Killian's shoulders.

Broad shoulders and strong arms.

She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. "Look, Alex. The chief's tossing the memorial wreath into the harbor."

Alex nodded. "For everybody lost at sea, like my dad."

Not like her dad. But she'd never say that to Alex. Let the child keep what illusions she possessed as long as she could.

Killian lowered Alex to the ground when the ceremony concluded. The crowd dispersed. She spotted her dad shooting the breeze with his buddies, many of them serving as auxiliary volunteer support to Station Storybrooke. Emma tensed as the Scarlet boy waved to Elsa from the CG boat at anchor in the harbor.

Alex tugged at Killian's hand. "Let's watch the boats go by."

Emma caught Alex's arm. "Killian probably has things to do."

Alex opened her palms. "Please, Mimi. Please."

Killian adjusted his cap. "I really don't have anywhere to be until I report for watch tomorrow."

Two pairs of imploring eyes of bright blue shifted her way.

Emma's high-minded resolve to avoid the XPO weakened. "Oh, all right. But only for a minute."

They shouldered past the clumps of chatting people milling about on the pier. Getting an earful from a "come-here"—anyone from elsewhere other than the Eastern Shore—her dad backpedaled as Emma approached. She pivoted toward Elsa, who ducked her head and disappeared into the diner.

Cowards. She'd give them an earful and a piece of her temper for hatching this plot to rent out the cabin. They'd left her out of the loop and made her look like a fool in front of the XPO.

Emma sighed.

Okay, she'd accomplished that feat under her own steam.

Alex occupied herself by saluting as the flotilla of recreational and commercial fishing vessels chugged away toward the open water.

Killian looped his thumbs in his duty belt. "I take it you knew nothing about the cabin rental. I'm sorry I scared you."

"I'm sorry I almost skewered you." She surveyed the sparkling water. "Money's been tight since Dad's heart attack. Elsa had to drop out of college and come home. And with Alex..." She cleared her throat. "They probably believed they were helping the Nolan bottom line."

He leaned toward her, his gaze intent. "But this is going to add to your workload, isn't it?" His probing awareness penetrated down to the depths of her heart.

She flushed.

When he looked at her like that...

"You already run the family fishing business—"

"What's left of it these days."

"And operate a charter boat during tourist season by yourself?"

She nodded.

Killian's cheeks lifted, turning his eyes into half-moons. "I'm impressed. You're a woman of many talents."

Alex plucked at her sleeve. "It's not too cold, Mimi. Killian and I could—"

"No, Alex. It is too cold." She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she'd brought a jacket. The wind off the water was cool. She should've been more vigilant.

Out of habit, she darted a glance at the horizon. Red sky this morning.

"Sailor take warning. Wind's picking up."

Killian removed his cap and plopped it on Alex's head. "USCG," he read aloud. "Station Storybrooke. Would you take care of it for me until lunch, lass?"

Alex grinned. "Sure, Killian. I'll take real good care of it." She trotted toward the end of the dock.

Killian sniffed the air. His nose twitched, resembling a bird dog's. "Smells like chowder."

She relaxed. "The volunteer fire department's serving clam chowder and crab cakes to raise money for the Watermen Association."

"Want to get Alex a bowl?" He dropped his eyes to the weathered pier and shuffled his feet. "Maybe get some for yourself, too?" His hand scratching the back of his neck in a slightly nervous fashion.. "Save me from eating my first Shore meal alone. My treat."

A gust of wind carried his words. She imagined the gawking stares and resulting speculation around the lunch counter at Granny's diner about the new XPO treating the old maid Nolan sister to lunch.

Was this his attempt to make up for scaring the daylights out of her? She didn't usually merit attention of the male persuasion.

Probably only being nice to the kid's poor fishy aunt Mimi.

Shouting, Alex made a futile grab as the wind snatched Killian's cap off her head. The cap sailed into the air before plummeting into the choppy waters of the harbor.

Her stomach knotted. "Alex, not so close to the edge."

"I'm not a baby, Mimi." She scowled as the cap drifted farther out of reach. "I promised Killian."

His brows drawn together, Killian took a step, hand outstretched. "It's okay, lass. No worries. I can get another—"

Dodging his hand, Alex took a running leap. "It's not too cold. I'll show you."

Emma and Killian realized Alex's intent a second too late.

Fear stabbed Emma's heart.

Drawing up her knees in midair, Alex landed like a cannonball in the blue-green waters. The top of her strawberry blonde hair disappeared beneath the waves.

Emma screamed. Heads jerked in her direction. Chief Locksley and the reverend came at a run.

Coughing, Alex surged to the surface. Her little hands beat the water. Her fingers strained for the cap. "Mimi!"

Sputtering on seawater, she disappeared from sight.

Without hesitation, Killian dived into the water. With long, broad strokes, his arms ate up the distance separating him from Alex. Scarlet tossed a life preserver off the side of the response boat.

Unable to stand by and do nothing, Emma vaulted in to assist. As she sank, the shock of the freezing-cold water sucked the breath from her lungs. Her father cried out her name.

Oh, God, don't let my father try to save me.

In his weakened condition, they'd both drown.

Weighted by her Wellingtons, she struggled to maintain buoyancy. She reached for the life ring, but the boots acted as an anchor and pulled her downward. Fighting a riptide, she flailed at the water. The light receded, sounds muffled and the darkness deepened.

A body splashed, hurtling downward, on her left. Foaming bubbles obscured her view, but strong arms encircled her and yanked her sunward. Rotating her on her back, someone hauled her toward the pier. Treading water, her rescuer placed her hands on the rungs of the dock ladder.

"Al-Alex..." Her teeth chattered.

"XPO's got her." In jumping off the CG patrol boat, Will Scarlet had lost his own cap. "Can you climb the ladder?"

Emma nodded but didn't – couldn't – move. "We need to get out of the way." Scarlet hoisted her leg into position on the rung.

Emma swayed.

Hands reached from above. She gripped the rung above her head, gasping to regain her breath and replenish her spent store of strength. Between Scarlet, Locksley and her father, they managed to raise her dockside. Her knees buckled. She collapsed.

Emma rolled onto her side. "Where's Alex?"

On his knees, David cushioned her in his arms. "Emma, are you all right?" His face contorted at the effort to hold his raw emotions in check.

She pushed onto her elbows as Killian's head topped the ladder with Alex clutched in a one-armed grip against his chest. Scarlet gathered Alex as Killian ascended the remaining rungs.

Scarlet deposited Alex onto the warped dock boards.

Water streaming off his uniform, Killian shouldered Scarlet aside to kneel beside Alex. He immediately began a series of chest compressions alternating with puffs of breath.

Emma scooted closer. Sharp splinters of wood pierced her jeans. "Alex..." She stroked the little girl's lifeless cheek.

Elsa rushed out of the diner. David hooked Elsa around the waist. "Wake up, Alex," Elsa pleaded.

A sob caught in Emma's throat. "Don't leave me, Alex."

Please, God, no. Not her, too.

A gurgle.

Alex's body spasmed. Killian propped her head sideways as a fountain of water issued from Alex's mouth.

"Alex!"

The little girl's body convulsed as she gagged, hacking seawater.

"Mimi..." she whimpered, stretching out her hand.

Relief washed over her. Thank God.. Silent tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Emma's arms itched to hold her niece closer, but unable to do more, she twined their fingers together. Killian elevated Alex to a sitting position. Inching nearer, Alex strained toward her.

"Don't cry, Mimi. Don't cry. I'm sorry. I won't ever do that again." Alex cradled her face in her small, cold hands.

Emma blanketed her arms around Alex's shivering frame. "What would I have done if I'd lost you, Alex?" she whispered into her niece's strawberry-Blonde hair.

"You won't ever get shed of me, Mimi. I promise." Alex nestled into her warmth. "I'm as pesky as a sand bur and as hard to shake." She was truly David Nolan's granddaughter, Eastern Shore colloquialisms and Southern stubbornness.

Choking on a laugh, she raised her eyes to Killian. "Thank you, Mr. Jones." Her jaw clenched. "Maybe your boat's name is right. We do seem to be causing you a lot of trouble."

An interesting look flashed across Killian's face. "No trouble."

His eyes slid away and he dashed beads of water off his dark, thick hair. He curled his fingers into a fist against his muscled thigh.

David extended his hand toward the dripping Will Scarlet, still poised beside the ladder. "We owe you a debt of gratitude as well, young man."

The twenty-something Coastie contemplated David for a second, as if unsure of his sincerity. Blinking, he shook David's hand. "No problem. Always rea—" He cut his eyes over to Elsa.

Emma didn't miss the look they exchanged.

Elsa's smile could've melted glacial ice caps.

And something went through Emma. A sudden longing for something she'd not perceived lacking in her life before.

Locksley motioned toward the arriving EMTs. "We need to get her checked out at Riverside, Miss Nolan."

Alex's arms tightened around her. "No, Mimi," she whispered. "Not there. Not again."

She clutched Alex against her chest. "I—I don't know if she...if I..." She couldn't stop her lips from trembling.

"Maybe getting them both home would be best, Chief." Compassion melted Killian's eyes. "I've got first-aid responder training, too. I can watch for any adverse signs, and if later we need to..."

Her heart eased. "I've had oyster stew in the Crock-Pot all morning." She gave Killian a quick appraisal. "Are you sure, Mr. Jones?"

"It's Killian." His eyes locked on hers. "And I'm glad to help." He extended a hand to help Emma to her feet. "Besides, I believe a bowl of your oyster stew has my name on it."

At the cabin, Killian peeled off his operational-duty uniform and changed into the more casual jeans he favored off duty. Opening his laptop, he shot off a quick email inquiry to Chief Locksley.

In the time it took Killian to put on a gray USCG sweatshirt, the computer pinged with a new message from Locksley. At the chief's suggestion, Killian put in a call to Reverend Hopper, who then routed him to an auxiliary volunteer, retired to bayside Onancock. Accidentally sending his shoes skittering underneath the walnut armoire, Killian discovered a brown portfolio case stashed in the far corner.

"He positioned the case across the white chenille bedspread. Inside, he found a treasure trove of pen-and-ink sketches, a photograph clipped to the bottom left corner of each depiction. On the right corner, a signature was scrawled—"Mimi."

Grunting, he sank into the wing-back chair next to the nightstand and held each picture toward the light. Birds mostly, including the once-endangered osprey. Sea turtles. A haunting picture of an abandoned seaside village delineated in charcoal.

His breath seized at the sight of a small canvas portrait of a younger Alex—he'd recognize that pug nose anywhere. Alex crouched near the water's edge. The water lapped at the toes of her sneakers. Her hand rested on the stern of a toy sailboat, as if in the act of launching the boat into deeper waters.

Killian studied Emma's carefully rendered strokes, especially the pastel of Alex. Each illustration provided a tiny glimpse into her soul.

He blew out a breath. The case resting in his lap, he gazed through the tree cover at the tiny band of water.

"Definitely a woman of many talents."

Who'd probably never intended for anyone to find these sketches. Maybe why she'd so fiercely attacked her intruder this morning.

Killian arrived at the main house with the portfolio case in hand. He let himself in through the screened porch. The aroma of simmering stew floated through the air.

"Emma?"

He edged through the door frame. Best not to surprise that one. She might come at him this time with—

Killian grinned.

The mind boggled at the idea of Emma Nolan with sharp kitchen weapons. He strolled into the living room and stopped in front of a photograph on the mantel over the fireplace. The stairs creaked.

"Oh, hey." Emma descended from the second floor. "I finally persuaded Alex to take a much-needed nap."

He glanced up. And his mouth went dry.

This Nolan sister cleaned up well.

Her hair, still wet from the shower, flowed around her face. He admired the fit of her jeans and the glow her three-quarter-sleeved lilac blouse cast on her freshly scrubbed face.

She ought to wear lilac more often.

Killian handed the case to her.

Emma's face clouded. "You opened it?"

He waited for a redheaded explosion. "Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I was curious. I didn't realize it belonged to you. They're good." He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. "I mean, you're good. Are you self-taught or did you have training? Do you show at any galleries on the Shore?"

She pressed the case to her chest.

"I'm not good enough for galleries."

"I think you underestimate yourself."

She shook her head. "A few art classes in high school, but I'm mostly self-taught. My mom gave me a few lessons, too, before..." Her gaze traveled to the picture on the mantel. "I'd been accepted into the Savannah School of Design—"

He whistled. "Impressive."

"But then mom got sick, so I stayed home to take care of her and to help Dad keep the family business running."

She moistened her lips. "That's why it's so important that Elsa finish her education."

He pointed to the image of the lovely auburn-haired woman on the flat-bottomed scow the Virginia watermen favored for oystering and clamming in the shallow tidal waters. "Your mom?"

Emma squirreled the case behind the piano.

"That's us ten years ago." She ticked off the names. "Dad, Mom, Ashley - who is Alex's mother and the youngest Nolan sister—the pretty one."

She gestured to another sister forever captured in time, a replica of their auburn-haired mother

"Anna - The second youngest. She's working on her doctorate at Virginia Tech. The smart one."

He frowned at Emma.

Pointing at the sixteen-year-old version of the Nolan sister Killian met at the diner Emma said,

"You've met Elsa, she's the creative one, always re-designing her clothes, her hair, your new residence. She has all these romantic ideas about life, but sometimes I wish she'd come back down to earth from her high mountain-top castle and finish the real-world things she started. She was about to complete her Bachelors Degree when Mom died of ovarian cancer."

Killian winced. A slow, painful death.

"And then there's me." She veered toward the kitchen. "I'll dish out the stew."

Killian caught hold of her wrist. "Which are you?"

She tilted her head and pointed at the portrait."I showed you. Right there."

Killian ran his thumb over her cheek.

Her green eyes widened.

"He lifted her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Which are you? The talented one? The strong one?"

She quivered and stepped out of his reach. "Just Emma. I'm just me."

The one who'd made a career of sacrificing everything for her family.

Something tore inside his chest. Killian hunched his shoulders.

Emma Nolan. His exact emotional polar opposite. Since his brother's death and his fiancée's betrayal, he'd made a career out of not getting involved with anyone outside the line of duty.

Especially not with redheads like Zelena.

Or Emma Nolan.

She called from the kitchen. "Coffee or sweet tea?" Thinking back to his earlier conversation with his OIC he replied, "Tea, please." He followed her into the cheery yellow-and-white-tiled kitchen. "I get enough coffee when I'm on watch to float a battleship. Can I help?"

She signaled toward a drawer. "Spoons."

Emma ladled the stew into blue crockery bowls, steam rising. "As far as the tea goes, since you're British I think it only fair to remind you that this _iced_ tea." She placed the bowl on top of a yellow place mat.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"It's sweet."

He dragged his attention from his contemplation of her pink-tinted lips to her emerald eyes.

"What is?"

She shoved the pitcher into his hands.

"The tea. Real sweet, if you think you can stand it."

Their fingers brushed. His heart jackhammered. She recoiled as if she'd been stung.

Killian decided to crank up his flirting another notch. Just to see if her skin could approximate the color of her hair. For scientific purposes, of course.

He smacked his lips.

"The sweeter the better."

And chuckled when her color went off the charts.

Rinsing the soup bowls, Emma gazed out the kitchen window across the lawn to the water. Shorebirds wheeled over the marshy creek. The barrier island refuge shimmered like a tiny dot on the horizon.

"You've got a nice view from your cabin, too, Killian."

He leaned against the counter. "Looks mighty good from where I'm standing."

But he wasn't looking out the window.

Her pulse palpitated like butterfly wings. Why did he keep staring at her that way?

Men didn't notice her. Unless to remind her to pull her weight on the boat. Men noticed Elsa.

Was he making fun of her? Setting her up to be the butt of a joke?

She edged past him to give the table a good scrub.

He pursed his lips. "Ah."

She cocked an eyebrow into a question mark.

He pointed to the soap dispenser. "Lime."

Now she was sure he mocked her. "It gets the fish smell off."

Elsa smelled of flowers. She, on the other hand...

Blinking fast, she swiveled toward the table.

"Hey, I wasn't..." He cleared his throat. "I was thinking—"

"That's dangerous."

"I made a call to the Chief."

She continued scrubbing, keeping her back to him.

"To Reverend Hopper, too."

She tensed.

"He recommended a fellow parishioner in Onancock who owns a heated pool."

Pivoting, she focused on him, the dishcloth hanging from her hand. "What are you talking about?"

He eyed the cloth as if it were a weapon. "Alex."

She narrowed her eyes into slits. "What about Alex?"

"She's surrounded by water, Emma. It's irrespons—"

Emma sucked in a quick breath.

Killian held his hands, palm up. "Wrong choice of words. But after what happened today, she's got to get right back in the water or potentially be enslaved to a fear of it forever."

She clamped her teeth together so tightly her molars ached. "What's this got to do with you?"

"I want to teach her.. On my off-watch days. Work on it this summer with her as a friend."

Summer... So far off. Maybe unreachable for Alex.

Fighting the fear, Emma seized on the next best distraction—her anger.

"Be her friend?" She snorted. "Until you're transferred to a more exciting assignment."

"Stop smothering her. It's clear she resents that." His rugged profile hardened. "Two-or three-year assignments, Emma, and then you move on. You grew up here. You know that's the Guard way."

Emma flung the dishcloth toward the sink. The hand-launched missile missed his head by a few inches. A few carefully calculated inches.

"What I know is after Mom died, Dad went into a dark place and couldn't find the strength to work and nearly lost everything he and mom had built together. Elsa and I managed things the best we could but it was all too much for Anna and Ashley so they went offshore."

Emma could feel the pain of the past bubbling up inside of her. The compassion in Killian's eyes made her ache but her bitterness prompted her to continue.

"Ashley took up with this Norfolk-based Coastie who she later discovered kept a woman in every port. By the time she found out, she was pregnant with Alex."

Killian's expression changed. He pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt to his elbows. "Men who stray will stray whether they're military or civilian." His scowl deepened. "And as often as not, it's the home front sweetheart who Dear Johns returning sailors, soldiers and Coasties." He was speaking from his own painful experience.

Emma crossed her arms

"That Coastie, whom Alex posthumously adores, got stinking drunk one night on leave in San Diego, fell into the water and drowned his sorry self."

She huffed "So Ashley came home."

Emma's expression softened slightly. " When she gave birth to Alex she was the happiest I'd ever seen her. She was an amazing mother who made sure that precious little girl wouldn't want for anything. I helped her in anyway I could, but Ashley had that Nolan family stubbornness. She would not accept any degree of charity. worked overnight shifts at the Storybrooke cannery so that she could spend her days with her daughter. When Alex turned three she was diagnosed with leukemia and it tore Ashley apart. But she put on her bravest face for Alex's sake, putting her faith in that God would heal her child. She was Alex's whole world! Then, last year, Ashley fell asleep at the wheel while driving home and crashed her car on Highway 13."

"Emma, I'm sorr—"

"Ashley died at Riverside Memorial. With her last breath, she begged me to take care of Alex."

"So you stayed and took care of Alex, your dad and Elsa. Putting aside your own dreams."

Returning to the window, she shrugged.

For a moment, she relived that awful time.

Alex shuddered with fear at the mere sight of the building where her mother died and where she received chemo. She shrank inside at the memory of Alex's pitiful cries for her Mimi not to take her into that place. How she'd begged to go home instead.

How she'd held Alex down when the nurse inserted the poison into her niece's port—

Killian's breath hitched and Emma realized she'd spoken out loud. To this near stranger she'd spilled the words she'd locked inside herself. Before she could react further, he strode across the room and took her into his arms.

Leaning into his firm chest, she gave in to another's comfort for once.

His essence filled her senses. Tropical breezes laden with sandalwood. A delicious combination of paradise and something all Killian Jones.

Maybe a friend?

She lacked the energy or vision to contemplate more. Hadn't she learned the hard way not to trust a Coastie—or anyone besides herself? Besides, men like Killian didn't look twice at a tomboy like her.

Embarrassed, she twisted away.

Two-or three-year assignment. Here today, gone as soon as she let her guard down.

She chewed at her lower lip, smearing the pink gloss she'd borrowed from Elsa's dresser.

"You're right about me smothering her. I'm just her aunt Mimi, not her mother. And I've become the scapegoat for her pain..." She took a ragged breath.

Killian cradled her face in his hands. At the feel of them—strong and warm—against her skin, her heart accelerated.

She searched his features. And found honor and integrity.

"The way I see it—" his voice gentled "—Mimi is the closest thing she can say next to Mama."

Just as she had every night for the past week once they finished dinner, Emma scudded back her chair.

"Got to check the gear for tomorrow's charter."

Killian folded his napkin and half rose from his chair to waylay her. But too late. Emma Nolan launched from the dining room as if propelled by rocket fuel. The screen door slammed against the frame in her wake.

Elsa sighed and began to clear the table.

David scuttled back his chair. "Care to cross wits with an old, washed-up waterman like myself, Killian?"

Killian reached for the now empty serving platter. "I should help Elsa with the dishes."

"First off, you're not a washed-up waterman, Dad." Elsa fluttered her hand. "And never you mind about the dishes, Killian. Emma cooked and left the kitchen pretty straight. These will go right into the dishwasher."

Alex made boat motor noises underneath the table.

Elsa pulled out a chair. "Then Alex and I have an appointment with the bathtub."

Alex responded by using her foot as a ramp for her toy speedboat.

"What do you say?" David settled into a cane-bottomed chair next to a piecrust table where a game of checkers awaited.

Killian glanced between Alex and Elsa.

"Go ahead," she encouraged, starting toward the kitchen. "But proceed at your own risk. This so-called washed-up waterman is actually known locally as a checkers shark."

Killian eased into the chair opposite David. Rubbing his hands together, David adjusted the pieces. "You take the red ones. I'll be black." The older man chuckled. "Best way to take the measure of a man. Squaring off in a game of skill and cunning."

Killian raised his eyebrow a notch. "Skill and cunning?"

"Sharpens the mind, young man. Got to keep on my toes with all these females around." David craned his head toward the dining room.

Three shutout games later, Killian threw his hands up in surrender. He darted a surreptitious look at the clock on the mantel. Emma, still a no-show.

Alex's bath time—amid much splashing and squawking cries for the XPO to rescue her—had come and gone.

Elsa emerged, sopping wet, at the top of the stairs. She gripped pajama-clad Alex's shoulder. "I've about had it up to here—" she made a swiping motion with her hand "—with Emma punishing you and me for changing her ringtone and for not telling her about—oh." Her mouth snapped shut at the sight of Killian.

"I thought you'd abandoned ship by now." Elsa tugged at Alex. "Considering the unearthly howls coming from this one. She won't go to bed. Every night this week... I can't fight this or her again, Dad."

Alex stomped her foot and whined, "Aunt Elsieeeeeee"

David gnashed his teeth. "Alexandra Mary Margaret Nolan…"

The girl's lower lip wobbled. "Mimi always reads me a story."

Killian noticed the hardcover picture book tucked under Alex's arm.

Elsa let out a gust of air. "Mimi's not here right now, Alex." She threw up her hands

"And just look at me. Just look at the mess you've made of me—not to mention the bathroom."

Killian moved out of his chair. "I'll read Alex the story. Would that be okay?" He edged toward the sofa. "Probably not be as good as Mimi, but I'll give it my best shot."

David shook his head. "Not your responsibility, Killian, though I appreciate the offer."

"It's me Emma is avoiding." Killian shrugged. "Besides, it'll be fun hanging out with Alex before she goes to bed." He cocked his head at the little girl on the stairs. "You will go to bed after we read the story, won't you?"

Elsa teetered on the step. He and David both held their breath. Alex nodded. Everyone else exhaled in relief.

David grasped the armrests and heaved himself to his feet. "And I'm going to have a little talk with another family member of mine, one Emma Ruth Nolan."

Elsa paused at the landing. "She's shy around people she doesn't know, Dad. Don't be too hard on her."

David tucked in his shirt. "She's stubborn is what she is."

Elsa turned and headed up to her room and mumbled under her breath, "Apples don't fall far from the tree."

David called after her,"I heard that!"

With a cautious look, Alex ventured off the stairs as David made for the door.. Using only the tips of her fingers, Alex extended the book to Killian. And Killian, for the first time, began to wonder what he'd gotten himself into. He had never been good with kids.

Or maybe he'd simply never had the opportunity to learn.

"So what do we have here?" Killian opened the storybook and smiled. "One of my favorites when I was a boy." He was more than a little relieved to realize he knew the story. And that the little girl's literary appetites didn't run to something the length of War and Peace. Although if he stalled long enough, perhaps Emma would come back into the house.

Killian patted the seat cushion beside him. "Hop on up and we'll begin."

"Mimi makes noises when she reads."

"Noises?"

It was a story, Killian recollected, about a plucky little sailboat exploring the deep blue sea.

Alex nodded and scrambled beside Killian. The little girl flipped past the title and copyright page. "It starts with the wind in the sails. Mimi makes wind sounds like this." She demonstrated by sucking in her cheeks and blowing out small puffs of air. Alex recited the first five lines from memory. It reminded Killian of the boy he'd once been. And of the parents who once read this same story to him.

Killian let go of the book. "Sounds as though you don't need me to read it to you. You know it by heart."

All motion ceased. Alex's eyes shot up to Killian's. A pucker creased the ridge between her eyes. "I guess so..." Her voice faded and Alex looked down.

"But..." Killian swallowed against the unexpected feeling. "Since it's been a long time since I read the story, maybe you and I—we—could read it together. You could coach me on the parts I've forgotten or if I don't do the sounds like Mimi."

"Really?" Alex blinked at him.

"How about it?"

Alex snuggled closer, and before long Killian found himself as caught up in the story of the brave little sailboat as Alex. They laughed together at the funny seagull parts. They groaned as the sailboat's timbers shivered in the midst of a typhoon and high waves. By the time they reached the cliAlex where the boat sighted a distant, welcoming shore, Alex had curled into Killian's lap.

"This is Mimi's favorite part." Alex pointed at the page. "You'll never guess what the little boat finds."

Emma's favorite part...

"Home."

Killian smiled "The little boat finds home."

Alex elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh, yeah. I forgot this was your favorite book, too."

Killian fought a sudden sting of tears. He'd been alone so long. What was happening to him here in Storybrooke?

If Emma Nolan didn't cry, Coasties like him didn't, either. And yet...

"...and the little sailboat lived happily ever after forever and ever," Alex continued without him. She underlined the last two words with a flourish. "The end."

Alex smiled at him. "Happily ever after forever and ever," she repeated. "Mimi always says that's for me and for her and Granddad and Aunt Elsie." She yawned and her eyes grew heavy. "And for you, Killian, too, now that you're with us."

With us?

"Alex, it's time to go to bed."

Killian's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Emma's voice.

His gaze flickered to where she stood outlined against the backdrop of the kitchen. In his musing, he hadn't heard Emma come inside. He wondered how long she'd been listening. And watching them.

Emma ventured farther into the living room. She held out her hand to the sleepy girl. "Time for you to dock in safe harbor for the night, too."

Closing the book, Killian helped Alex crawl down from her perch on the couch.

Emma looked at Killian across the top of Alex's head.

He held the book out to Emma. "Do you want me to carry her upstairs?"

A vein pulsed in her throat. "No. Alex can make it on her own, can't you, Alex?"

The small girl rubbed her cheek alongside the denim of Emma's thigh. "Yeah. Thanks for the story, Kil-li." A yawn engulfed her..

Bending, Emma hoisted Alex into her arms.

Alex wrapped her arms around her aunt's neck. "Soon I'm going to be too big for you to carry, Mimi," she whispered into her hair. "I'm in kindergarten now."

Killian's heart constricted at the look on Emma's face. She closed her eyes and turned away.

"Wait!" Alex arched toward Killian.. "I've got more books upstairs. Maybe tomorrow night, you and me could..." Her blueberry eyes glowed with hope.

Killian nodded. "Aye lass, Tomorrow and the next night after that. As long as you want."

Emma's lips tightened. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Coastie."

Killian kept his face neutral, his voice even. "I'll think you'll find, if you're brave enough to take the chance, that I keep my promises, Emma."

"That's the problem." Emma readjusted her grip around her niece . She headed for the stairs. "I'm not as brave as Alex."

Leaning into the pitch of the boat, Killian gripped the cabin door frame. Coxswain-qualified Scarlet gunned the forty-five-foot rapid-response boat as they cleared Storybrooke harbor. Other crew members readied themselves and the equipment until Scarlet brought them alongside the _Whale's Tail_ , located ten miles offshore.

The 911 distress call had originated with a local emergency dispatcher, who'd relayed the information to the watch stander on duty. The team from Station Storybrooke had launched a few minutes later.

Chief Locksley had been generous, allowing Killian the chance to see the crew in action. Or Locksley had sensed Killian's internal struggle to reconcile himself to desk duty. For whatever reason Killian was grateful to be on the water and in action once more.

Scarlet maneuvered the craft through the channel, threading the boat through the barrier islands. Killian glanced at Scarlet's speed. A rugged swell sent the boat airborne for the space of a heartbeat before slamming the hull upon the face of the water.

His feet flat on the deck, Killian flexed his knees, bracing as Scarlet gunned it over yet another wave. Killian's stomach flew skyward and plummeted seconds later as the hull lurched.

Killian fought the urge to grin at the delight etched across Will Scarlet's craggy features. He'd yet to meet a coxswain who wasn't a speed demon. Ah, youth and its love affair with speed.

Unfortunately, youth was not a category Killian belonged to anymore. Although early thirties hardly qualified for old man, has-been status, either.

Masters of seamanship, boatswain's mates were all self-admitted adrenaline junkies. And Killian missed taking part in every rescue call, but when the opportunity for promotion and leadership had arisen, he'd stepped up to the challenge.

Hitting the heave and roll of waves on the open ocean nearly swamped Killian. Despite himself, he laughed. Scarlet threw him a cautious look.

"Maintain course." Killian's lips quirked. "Get us there fast, but get us there alive, Boats."

A rakish grin slashed the contours of Scarlet's face and his shoulders relaxed a notch at the Coastie term of respect and implied affection for boatswain's mates.

In the open frame of the cabin door, sea spray peppered Killian's face. The not-like-anything-else adrenaline surged through his veins. How he loved this.

Killian Jones was made for this—of this one thing he'd been sure since he was no bigger than Alex, on the deck of his father's fishing boat. With a deliberate effort, Killian cleared his mind of everything except the mission.

"Semper paratus, Scarlet. Who knew 'always ready' first meant surviving your piloting skills?"

Scarlet flexed his hands around the wheel. "I'm thinking, XPO, you're loving this almost as much as me."

Killian ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "No almost about it. What's the only thing that separates every Guardsman from a buccaneer, Scarlet?"

Scarlet cocked his head. "I don't know, Petty Officer."

Killian snorted. "Nothing, Scarlet. There's a little bit of pirate in every Guardsman. Especially those with a boatswain's mate rating."

Scarlet and the other crew members chuckled. "Aye, that's about right, XPO."

Killian peered out the window at the pewter-gray sky. With the binoculars, he scanned the horizon. Winds were strong, tide high, water choppy.

"There." He pointed starboard at the fifty-six-foot sailboat.

Scarlet cut back the throttle and eased as close as safety allowed. Fishing poles dangled off the sides. A tall brunette woman with bright red lips waved her arms from the deck. Killian turned on the bullhorn.

"This is the United States Coast Guard. We're responding to a call for assistance. We're coming aboard." Killian followed with instructions as his crew prepared to board the vessel.

"Several crew members hastened to throw lines and secure the response boat to the _Whale's Tail_. Clambering over the side of the vessel with Killian was Seaman Apprentice DunBroch—first name Merida, Killian had learned, and she was trained as a first-aid responder. The brunette onboard rushed toward them.

"He's belowdecks. Collapsed. Unconscious. I can't get him to wake up. I didn't know what to do." She seized Killian's arm and attempted to physically drag him below deck.

Killian extricated himself from her clutches. "Ma'am...calm down. Breathe." He nudged his chin toward another team member to proceed and check it out. DunBroch, first-aid bag in hand, scooted past.

Reeking of alcohol, the passenger swayed.

"I know you've had a rough time. What's your name?"

"Ruby. Oh God is he dead?!"

Killian captured both of her hands and urged the woman toward the captain's perch.

"Ruby, look at me, What's your husband's name?"

Killian's eyes darted toward the ladder leading below, where DunBroch worked on the man.

"H-he's not m-my husband." The Ruby's teeth chattered.

Killian spotted a windbreaker and snagged it before wrapping it around her quivering shoulders.

DunBroch's head, her red curls in a ponytail threaded through the back band of her headgear, topped the ladder. "Just the two persons on board, Petty Officer Jones. His vitals are good. He's breathing on his own and starting to stir. No sign he injured himself when he fell."

Killian turned toward the female passenger. "How long has he been out, ma'am?"

"I—I'm not sure." Her body trembled with delayed shock. "I wasn't feeling well. I've been seasick most of the time since we left Ocean City. He went belowdecks to get some aspirin. I heard a thump, and when he didn't reappear..." She lifted her hands.

"Does he have a medical history of seizures or heart problems we should be aware of?"

The woman shrugged. "We met last night at a dock party. He's a doctor. He said he was on his way to Bermuda. He promised to take me as far as Hatteras."

"His name?" Killian prompted again.

The woman's eyes widened and she clutched her abdomen.

Killian grabbed the trash can in the corner just in time to save his shoes.

The injured man emerged five minutes later with support from DunBroch. Killian helped the woman passenger transfer to the fast boat.

"We've put in a call for a sea tow of your boat into the harbor," Killian informed the man. The man groaned and put a hand to his head. DunBroch assisted the man onto a bench in the response boat cabin. "He says he passed out from too much partying."

"Petty Officer Jones. Dispatch will have an ambulance waiting for us at the dock to transfer him and the lady to Riverside upon our arrival."

The female Coastie pried the woman off Killian's arm. "She's probably suffering from dehydration, too."

Killian left the turtle-green woman to DunBroch's tender ministrations. He gave the go-ahead for Scarlet to return to port. There'd be citations issued once they arrived. The boater had violated more than one safety protocol.

That was why alcohol and boating didn't mix. This man was lucky he'd not been stricken in the middle of nowhere. Or he'd be suffering more than a headache and a fine. Killian wrinkled his nose. What caused a woman to go to sea with a man she hardly knew?

He patted DunBroch's shoulder as he passed. "Job well done." Killian made a point to commend each crewmember. No one appreciated what the Coast Guard did until they needed them. Last week, Air Station Elizabeth City reported that the men aboard the missing _Abracadabra_ had cheered when the Jayhawk helo came into sight. Those men had needed a miracle with their boat sinking beneath them in the cold Atlantic.

They'd gotten one, too, courtesy of the United States Coast Guard.

Ignoring the niggling feeling that had started the day he arrived on the Eastern Shore, Killian scanned his wristwatch. He'd go off duty once they reached the station. His stomach rumbled. He'd become spoiled since landing this assignment a few weeks ago. Thanks to the meals courtesy of those Nolan sisters, he'd get soft if he wasn't careful. He licked his lips, though, remembering what Elsa had hinted would be on the dinner table tonight."

He cut a look at Scarlet steering the boat past Parramore Island. No wonder Will was interested in Elsa, most men would be.

Although Killian's personal tastes ran more to the feisty older—

Whoa.

Put the screeching brakes on that thought, Jones. What was wrong with him?

This Coastie didn't do relationships. Been there, done that. Been burned. Only a fool opened himself to that kind of heartbreak. Here today, he reminded himself, gone tomorrow or at least next year, if he minded his p's and q's, toed the Coastie line and advanced out of this backwater.

Crew members leaped the remaining feet to the Storybrooke dock to secure the lines. He and DunBroch helped the man and woman step onto the pier. EMTs hurried forward from the waiting ambulance.

DunBroch relinquished custody to the emergency medical personnel. Leaving the team to their respective responsibilities, Killian ambled toward the station.

He told himself he'd be fine just as long as he made sure nothing happened between him and that spitfire Emma for the duration of his assignment. Despite the home-cooked meals, to-die-for fishing, cozy quarters and obvious matchmaking attempts by the father and younger sister. Despite what had surged between him and Emma in the kitchen that first day. Good thing said spitfire was immune to Coastie charms and had refused his offer to coach Alex in water safety.

He raked a hand over his head, sending his cap flying off in front of his station locker. What had possessed him to get involved in the first place? Since when did redheads possess the power to snare his heart? Killian spun the lock. He growled and jerked open the locker door. What was it about this place?

The metal door clattered against the wall.

What was it about these people?

He swiveled around to make sure no one had followed him into the locker room. His team would think he was crazy. He glared at the empty doorway.

Emma Ruth Nolan had the potential to drive him crazy. Which settled it in Killian's mind—no more after-dinner checkers with David. No more bedtime stories with Alex. He'd gobble down dinner and retreat to the safety of his cabin.

These people were so...

Redheaded. Insidious. Trouble with a capital T.

Lucky for him, Emma had mostly managed to avoid him thus far. Always out on a charter, checking lines, repairing nets. Returning to the house late, no matter how long he lingered. Bolting out the door this morning after no more than a cursory morning grunt.

Which was exactly what he wanted, wasn't it?

His irritation grew.

Killian grabbed his gym bag, retrieved his cap and slammed the locker shut. He squared his shoulders and exhaled. Glad he'd gotten that straightened out.

As he exited the station, a whimper of pain from an animal drew his attention underneath the wharf.

Emma inhaled a lungful of air to steady her pulse. She'd made it her business to avoid running into a certain Coastie boarder. Until this morning's awkward moment.

In spite of what she'd felt that day in the kitchen— She grimaced. Because of what she'd felt that day. Killian Jones was not what she'd expected. He was so nice. So caring.

So...drop-dead gorgeous in his blue Coastie uniform.

Seriously, who pulled off drop-dead gorgeous at 6:00 a.m.? Not her, that was for sure, with her usual ratty shirt and bedraggled overalls. She wasn't girlfriend material. Never had been.

And especially now, Emma needed to remain focused. They were so close to getting the final evaluation of Alex's cancer scan after the last round of the alternative medicine. She prayed every day the report would find her in remission. With her dad and Elsa to take care of, she had no time for anything other than... What? She swallowed hard. Emma had no time for art. Much less time for someone so out of her reach. Her heart drummed in her chest.

She struggled to quiet her riotous yearnings for a happily-ever-after of her own. As long as Killian didn't touch her again, she'd be okay. Any more tenderness from him and she'd melt. One more look in his sea-blue eyes and she'd drown.

"She clomped across the crabgrass lawn toward the house and pummeled the screen door with her boot. Get out of my head, Coastie!

"That you, Emma?"

She yanked open the door. "It's me, Dad."

The hinges squeaked and Emma dropped onto the workbench to remove her boots. Prying them off, she padded in her stocking feet into the kitchen to find her former shipshape world in complete chaos.

Elsa cooed over the most pathetic excuse for a dog Emma had ever seen. Her dad scurried to fill one of Mom's best crockery bowls with water from the faucet. Killian straightened from where he'd been leaning against the refrigerator.

Emma's eyes rounded. "What in the name of Delmarva is going on here?"

Alex didn't bother to look up from where she lay nose to nose beside the black Labradoodle on the kitchen floor.

She threw her hands in the air. "Well? Is somebody going to answer me, or what?"

The three adults suddenly found the pine floor fascinating.

"Alex." She lurched toward her niece. "Get away from that nasty, dirty dog."

The dog bared his teeth and growled.

Emma's breath hitched.

Killian inserted himself between her and the canine. "Now, Mimi before you get mad..."

Her eyes narrowed at his easy use of Alex's nickname for her. She sidestepped Killian. The dog growled again.

She froze.

Killian hooked one arm around her waist, and he thrust Emma behind him. "Take it easy. Dogs don't like it when you come in as if you're ready to storm the beaches."

David deposited the bowl beside the dog. "Before you go blaming Killian, it wasn't his doing. He spotted her lying underneath the wharf and stopped by the diner to inquire if anyone recognized the Lab. It was Elsa and me who convinced him to bring the dog home."

Emma peered over Killian's muscled shoulder. "And is that Grandma Nolan's county fair quilt?" She planted her hands on her hips. "Wait. Did you say her?"

For the first time she spied the black Labradoodle's bulging belly. Emma grimaced. "Don't tell me that dog's having puppies?"

Killian dug his hands into his jeans pockets. David shuffled his feet. Elsa pursed her lips and fiddled with her fingers.

"As if we need one more mouth to feed around here? Much less puppies? Like I need one more thing to take care—"

"Nobody asked you to take care of anyone except Alex." Elsa sniffed. "Stop being such a control freak."

Emma whirled. "Sure, Little Miss Responsibility. Have you contacted the school registrar? Or did you miss the deadline again? Don't think I haven't heard about you chasing that good-for-nothing Cockney Coastie up and down the peninsula these past few months."

"Those gossipy old women at the Be-Lo have nothing better to do than rat me out." Elsa leaped to her feet. "Despite what you think, you're not the boss of me or Dad. This is our house, too."

"'Except I'll be the one cleaning up after the dog. Paying vet bills. Buying dog food." Emma jabbed her finger in the air. "And you're correct about Alex being my responsibility. You people ever think about dog germs? No way that dog stays here. Much less puppies. We've come so far..."

She slumped against the corner of the table.

Killian took hold of her elbow. She tensed.

"You're right, Emma. I didn't think about that. We'll move the dog to my cabin. I'll take care of everything. Pay for everything. You've got enough to deal with—"

"Not a solution."

She gazed pointedly at his fingers entwined around her forearm until he removed his hand. "Alex will only get attached, and then you'll leave and—"

"If you're bent on being honest here—" Elsa leaned across the table "—why don't you tell Killian the real reason you've got a problem with Coasties, Emma?"

Emma flinched.

David moved to intervene. "Don't, Elsa."

Elsa shook him off. "Why do you have to be this way, Emma? It just makes everything worse."

Alex squirmed upright. "Dogs know when you're being mean, Mimi." Tears tracked down her cheeks. "You never let me do anything. You never let me have anything I want. Why can't we keep this dog? I'm going to die anyway."

Emma gasped. "No, sweetie." She shook her head. "That's not true."

Elsa folded her arms across her chest and stared hard out the window. David massaged his hand over his chest. Emma staggered toward Alex. The dog barked.

Alex flung herself at Killian's knees. "Don't let her take my dog, Killian. I—I need Shadow to stay. Till I'm gone..."

She stretched out her hand toward Alex and let it drop to her thigh. "I won't let it be true, Alex. I won't," she whispered. "Sunshine. Sea glass. Summer. Remember?"

Killian wrapped his arms around the sobbing little girl. He raised his head and locked gazes with Emma. The compassion in his eyes undid her. Her gaze darted between her father, Elsa and Alex.

Maybe they didn't need her running their lives. It wasn't as if she was doing such a great job running her own life. And what would happen once they no longer needed her? When Alex no longer—

Her hand at her throat, she stumbled out the door and fled. The screen slammed into the door frame behind her.

David sighed heavily. "I'm sorry you witnessed that, son."

Killian pulled the ladder-back chair from underneath the kitchen table.

"You look like you need to sit for a spell, David."

David shook his head.

"Please. You're paler than sea foam." Killian motioned to the chair. "Besides, I'm off duty and I'd like to remain that way for the rest of the night, if you don't mind."

With a sigh, David sank into the chair. "All of us are so raw from the who we've lost and with Alex's cancer."

Killian cocked his ear at the sounds from upstairs, where Elsa attempted to get Alex changed into her pajamas if she wanted to watch Shadow, the mother dog, give birth.

"All my girls responded to Mary Margaret's death in different ways."

Killian flicked a glance into the darkened yard. Once he made sure David was okay, he needed to find Emma. As far as he could tell, she worked and worried too much. Always taking care of others. But nobody seemed to be interested in taking care of Emma.

His gut burned.

Not that she'd be open to comfort coming from a Coastie. But he had to make sure she was okay out there alone in the dark. All by herself, alone.

Killian knew what that kind of alone felt like. He'd been a little older than Alex when his mother died. And then came his father abandoned he and his brother. Then his brother's accident. Not to mention Zelena dumping him a year ago.

"My youngest, Ashley was so close to Mary Margaret. After Mary Margaret died, like the song says, Ashley went looking for love in all the wrong places." David slumped in the chair. "Anna took off for college and never came home."

David's head bowed. "Consumed with grief, I was useless to my girls. Weak when I should've been strong. Left the responsibilities to Emma, my fishing buddy. My shadow. Without any sons, she did a man's job on the boat."

Except no one seemed to realize—but Killian—that Emma was doing all those things instead of pursuing her dreams.. He tamped down a surge of irritation.

David let his shoulders rise and fall. "She has wide enough shoulders to take on the task of raising Alex, too."

Killian clenched his fist. _Not so wide_ , he wanted to shout.

"Alex got seven rounds of chemo. If this last experimental treatment doesn't work..." The old man's lips tightened.

"'Emma's had a bad go of it." David hunched over the table. "She doesn't think I know about the bills. We—like most watermen—are self-insured. Thousands of dollars we owe—money well spent to save my granddaughter's life—but money we no longer have to repay the lien on the boat."

His eyes watered. "She doesn't think I know the boat is mortgaged to the hilt. I don't know what we'll do..." David scooted the chair across the hardwood "floor. "And she doesn't think I know what she does when she gets a rare moment to herself."

He disappeared into the living room and reappeared with Emma's portfolio. "She gave up so much for us. College, her dreams, love..."

Killian's eyes shot up.

"She hides these from me so I won't feel bad. She hides her disappointments behind Alex's care and mine, so she doesn't have time to feel bad for herself."

The cell in Killian's pocket buzzed. Fishing it out, he examined the number and turned it off. Third call this week. He could guess what Zelena wanted after all this time. Thirteen months, two weeks and three days. The sales rep she dumped Killian for had probably run out of money. She'd broken Killian's heart, and he wasn't about to give her a second crack at it.

Killian left David flipping through Emma's drawings as he hurried into the night in search of one errant fisher-girl. He found her silhouetted in the moonlight at the edge of the pier between his sailboat and the _Now I Sea._

Emma stiffened as the dock boards creaked. "If you're as intelligent as I take you for, you'll ditch this asylum and head for open waters." She crossed her arms.

"You don't have to keep trying so hard to be tough, Emma. You aren't the only one trying to control events things around you to distract yourself from pain. Trust me, it just makes it worse."

Emma raised her eyebrows at him. "Seriously?"

Killian nodded solemnly.

"What happened to you?"

He shrugged and skipped a stone across the water. "Like you, maybe too much loss too close together. Unlike you, I didn't have the support system you have in this town, your sister and father. No Alex to ground me. Easier to drift and not remember what I'd lost. Rely on myself."

"So you set sail and never looked back."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Aye, that I did."

She sighed. "I don't think we're that different. I'm by nature a controller and worrier. Too often, I fall back on relying on myself."

"But are you—" He pointed a finger at himself. "Are we ready to do a course correction? Raise the sail and let the wind blow us where it will?"

"I'm just so tired." She scrubbed her eyes with her fists. "I'm terrified every time Alex gets a cold or a fever. Wondering if the leukemia has come back. I believe in God, but I don't have faith like Ashley did that somehow everything would be okay, especially not after everything that's happened." She sat down on the dock and hugged her knees to her chest.

Killian eased down beside her. "I know better than most that faith is way easier to talk about than to live. But trusting is less tiring than trying to control things we were never meant to."

She crossed her arms. "Exactly what are you suggesting?"

"'Emma—"

She tossed a disgruntled look at him.

He passed his hands through his hair. "Emma, none of us know how much time we've got. Not you. Not a Coastie. Not Alex."

She glared.

He held up a hand. "All I'm saying is none of us know where the next tide will take us."

"Sandbar or coral reef, most likely."

He angled toward her. "Or sunshine and sea glass. Depends on how you choose to look at it."

Emma squinted at him. "So...what? Seize the day? Enjoy the moment?"

"Why not? None of us know what the future holds."

She kicked a crab pot with her socked foot and winced. "Nor how long a future we actually have."

"A month. Spring. A summer? Why not live it fully?"

She sighed. "You think I should let you give Alex swim lessons."

"Trust, not fear,'Emma." He rested his palm on her shoulder. "None of us are here forever. But there's no life worth living without hope, something to look forward to and live for."

She bit her lip. "This is going to involve me adopting a dog, isn't it?"

He laughed. "Or two."

"Killian Jones, you and Alex will be the death of me yet."

He stuck out his hand. "Friends?"

She ignored his outstretched hand. "You won't be here long enough to do more than cause trouble, and then you'll leave."

He jerked his thumb toward the sailboat. "You want to talk about trouble?"

She frowned. "This is one redhead who doesn't need your help."

He leaned closer until his lips could have brushed hers. An impulse getting harder to resist. "Whether you want to admit it or not, everyone needs help from time to time."

A strand of her hair lifted in the breeze off the water. "A summer of happy memories for Alex?"

He fought the urge to touch her hair. "For you, too."

Something in his face must have revealed more than he meant to.

Emma scowled. "I'll agree to let you teach Alex how to swim, but I don't want your pity, Killian. And I don't need you to rescue me." She rose to her feet and left him alone on the dock.

Killian sighed heavily. Maybe she didn't need rescuing, but Killian wondered if he did.

"You're going to have to let go of her, Emma, if I'm going to teach her to swim."

Emma tightened her grip around the wriggling-to-be-free kindergartner.

"Down, Mimi." Alex arched her back. "I'm not a baby. Let go."

One hand on the ladder rail, one foot on the bottom step of the pool, Killian's focus—on her—never wavered.

She shifted her flip-flops on the concrete. "Suppose the water's too cold and she gets chilled?"

"The water's perfect, Emma. If you don't believe me, why don't you get in yourself and see."

Flushing, she set Alex down and the little girl sprinted toward the edge of the pool.

"Slow down, Alex." Killian held up his hand. "First rule, no running near the water."

"Emma dipped her big toe in the water to test it.

Killian steered Alex toward the ladder. "Both hands on the rails, lass."

"Wait."

He and Alex paused, one foot on, one foot off.

"Aren't you going to put a life jacket on her? Or a flotation device?"

Killian narrowed his eyes. "On second thought, if you're going to make a USCG-trained swimmer nervous over Alex's first swim lesson, maybe you better wait outside in my truck."

"Yeah, Mimi!" Alex propped her hand on her small hip and jutted it, Elsa-style. "I don't need you. Go away!"

Emma blinked.

Killian frowned. He locked eyes with Alex. "Let's you and me get one thing straight, Candidate Nolan. If I ever hear you disrespect your Aunt Mimi again, you can forget about swim lessons and anything else from this Coastie."

Alex's eyes widened and then she scowled. Emma held her breath, waiting for the explosion.

Killian crossed his arms, his swimmer's shoulders bunching. "Your call, Nolan."

The starch went out of her niece. She drew a circle in the water with her toe. "Sorry, Mimi."

Killian opened his arms and grabbed hold of both side rails. "Good call, Nolan. And for the record, Emma..."

Emma's heart skipped a beat when he said her name.

"I believe PFDs—personal flotation devices—cultivate a false sense of security. This girl lives beside the mother of all oceans. She needs to learn to respect it. Don't want any more Storybrooke stunts on my watch."

His watch?

Emma's fingers played with her palm tree earring.

"I like your green swimsuit. You look like an Eastern Shore mermaid."

Her eyes darted to see if he mocked her. But his blue eyes glinted with admiration.

Flustered, she broke eye contact to tighten her ponytail. "For the record, it's teal."

A curious smile flickered across his face.

His eyes dropped to Alex. "Let's get you comfortable with the water."

Killian eased Alex into a sitting position on the step. Alex shivered as the water covered his swim trunks. Clamping her hand against her thigh, Emma bit her lip at her reflex. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Lean against the first step, Alex."

Alex quivered as the water rose to chest level, but she complied.

"Good lass." Killian patted Alex's shoulder then looked over at Emma.. "Since you're behaving, Shore Girl, why don't you kick off those flip-flops and stay awhile, too."

 _Mermaid. Shore Girl._

Killian and his funny names for her. But Emma slipped out of her flip-flops and planted the seat of her cutoff jeans on the concrete. She dropped her legs over the side and let her feet dangle.

A hand's reach from Alex, Killian nonetheless relaxed against the tiled wall, his shoulders brushing against her bare leg.

Goose pimples—that had nothing to do with seventy-degree water—rose on her skin. She crossed her legs.

"Speaking of kicking..." With his shoulders pressed to the wall, Killian extended his legs and demonstrated for Alex.

After a few minutes of vigorous splashing from Alex, Killian smirked at Emma's semi-soaked appearance. "I think she's got the hang of it now, don't you?"

With a lazy grin, he stretched his arm out of the water and touched the tip of her nose. A single droplet trembled on his fingertip. A fleeting expression came and went across his expressive blue eyes. He took a deep breath and stopped smiling. "Em—"

"I got water in my eyes!" Alex balled her fists, digging into her eye sockets.

Emma jumped to her feet. Killian grabbed hold of Alex's hands. "Don't rub, Alex. Wipe like a windshield."

"It burns. It burns." Alex bounced on the concrete step. "Mimi...help."

Emma scurried over to the beach bag she'd left on a poolside chair. "I bought goggles." She rummaged into the tote's cavernous depths and also withdrew Alex's towel.

Killian positioned Alex in his lap and plucked the towel from Emma. He swiped Alex's eyes. "Settle down. You'll get used to it, I promise."

Emma couldn't stop herself from pacing, but she kept her mouth shut.

Killian sighed. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for Alex to wear the goggles today. Till she gets comfortable with the water."

She dropped the goggles into his open hand and mouthed a thank-you.

Killian adjusted the straps behind Alex's head. "Better now?" She made fish-face contortions with her eyes and cheeks, flapping her hands on either side of her face like gills.

They all laughed. Something tightly coiled within Emma loosened a notch.

The girl launched herself at Killian. Killian caught her and spun her around over the surface of the water. "Ready for the next lesson, lass?"

Alex entwined her legs around Killian's torso.

"I'm going to be a great swimmer like you, Killian."

Killian held her close. "I think you can be anything you want to be, Alex."

Alex draped her skinny arms around Killian's neck. "I love you, Boatswain's Mate Killian Jones."

Emma took a quick indrawn breath.

His brow furrowed, Killian stared at the little girl. "I love you, too, Alexandra Nolan," he whispered.

He'd taken to lingering a spell over breakfast after David headed off to the boat shop and Elsa took Alex to school. Leaning over the pen David had rigged in one corner of the small kitchen, Killian patted Shadow, the black Labradoodle. That had been quite a night when the puppies were born. He smiled, recalling Alex's wide-eyed wonder as each of the five squirming puppies emerged. And when Killian had assumed the role of a veterinary obstetrician, Emma had been right there at his elbow, unable to hang back from the action.

And also despite Emma's previously vehement declarations to the contrary, she'd been the one who'd insisted Shadow and the pups remain in the house.

"For Alex's sake." And she'd given Killian a haughty look, daring him to contradict her when he rounded his eyes at her abrupt change of plans.

At the squeak of the screen door hinges, he ambled toward the porch. Seated on a bench, Emma placed one Wellington in the bootjack and tugged.

Hearing his tread across the threshold, she lifted her head.

Tensing, he waited for her reaction to his presence on yet another morning. He didn't want to crowd her, but he couldn't seem to resist lingering over his second cup of coffee before he reported to the station each day.

She searched his face, and then her gaze dropped to his hands cradling a ceramic mug. "That cup for me?"

He leaned against the door frame. "Could be."

She shoved her other boot into the jack by way of reply. Wrenching her foot free, she found her balance before standing. "Don't you have work you need to be doing at the station?"

"Plenty of time before I'm due in." He didn't bother looking at his watch. This exchange between them had become a routine over the past week.

She held out her hand. "Cream and sugar?"

He nodded. "Aye, Cream and sugar." He handed her the cup.

She took a sip and looked at him over the rim of the mug. "You gonna get one for yourself, or am I drinking alone today?"

He relaxed. The secret fear she'd kick him out of her morning sanctuary abated a little more with each passing day. " I've got time for one more cup."

Killian retrieved his mug. He heard the screen door swing open again and the corresponding thud when it closed. A minute later, he joined her outside on the porch steps.

Emma inched over to give him space. She peered at his cup. "Black." She made a face.

He took a swig. "Don't need cream and sugar. I'm sweet enough."

She shook her head, but a smile teased at her lips. Both of them were quiet with their own thoughts for a few moments. He enjoyed the companionable silence with Emma.

She quivered beside him.

"What?"

Setting down her mug, she placed her index finger over her lips and pointed.

With a determined effort, he wrested his gaze away from her and toward the current lapping against the shoreline. His breath caught as a giant blue heron took flight over the swaying sea grass of the tidal marsh at low tide.

"Did you see?" she whispered. "Such beauty and power. Awesome doesn't do it justice."

His eyes riveted toward her face. "No, it doesn't."

Sensing his scrutiny, she hid her face in the mug. "Our Eastern Shore world must be pretty boring, I guess, to a globe-trotter like you."

"I kinda like knowing the names of most people in town."

Her lips twitched as a puppy yelped from inside the house. "Your fan club's calling. Thanks to Alex and the puppies, I bet you know the names of everyone's dogs in Storybrooke now, too."

"Not such a boring place." He smirked. "Not in a world populated with Alex and the rest of the crazy Nolan clan." He ducked his head and ran his finger around the rim of his cup. "There's a lot to be said for a place that anchors life by the moon and the tide."

He glanced up to find her eyes studying him.

She pursed her lips. "It's also a place where you can see the Milky Way and stars at night, too."

"If that's an invitation, it's definitely something I'd like to see."

Emma flushed as red as her hair. "Not an invitation. Just an observation."

He frowned as she shoved off from the step and headed across the lawn toward the _Now I Sea_ docked at the slip.

"Emma," he whispered to no one but himself. "What am I going to do about you?"

Hard to court a lady with such a Coastie aversion. Had to go slow with a woman who refused to be rushed. Was he the crazy one for pursuing a redhead who'd made it clear she wanted nothing from him but friendship?

Killian's mouth tightened. And yet sometimes when she didn't think he was paying attention, he'd catch Emma looking at him, a tremulous expression on her face. Not unlike his own, he figured, when he had the opportunity to gaze at her. Was he fighting a losing battle?

Maybe.

Still...Killian couldn't shake the idea of sailing with Emma Nolan one night under the stars.

Killian made sure he maintained eye contact with Alex to build the little girl's trust. After a week of swim lessons, Alex was ready to put her face—minus the goggles—in the water. Bending his knees, Killian crouched at Alex's level. One hand holding the pool wall for support, Alex locked gazes with Killian and proceeded to blow water bubbles directly into Killian's face.

The bubbles billowed up Killian's nose.

With a grin, Killian surged out of the water and wiped his face with his hand. "Candidate Nolan," he choked. "Did you raspberry your instructor?"

Hooting, Alex scrambled out of Killian's long reach and raised herself on both arms over the concrete side. "Did you see, Mimi? I got Killian good."

Ensconced in a lounge chair—Alex wasn't the only one who'd made progress this last week—Emma dropped the fashion magazine in her lap and applauded. "Way to go, Alex. Way to take that Coastie down a peg or two and show him what you can do."

"Hey!" Killian heaved himself onto his elbows beside Alex. "I resent that remark on behalf of Coasties everywhere."

She cut her eyes at him. "You and Coasties everywhere resemble that remark."

Her chest above water, Alex shivered. Killian gently placed his hand on the girl's shoulder. "Great job, Candidate. If you're cold, though, maybe we should move on to the next mission."

"Wh-wh-what m-m-mission..." Alex's teeth chattered.

"An underwater mission."

"Alex's eyes widened. And then ricocheted toward Emma. She glanced up from the magazine and smiled.

"Mimi...?"

"Killian's got you, Alex. It's okay." She favored Killian this time with a sweet smile.

Something warm liquefied Killian's insides. He swallowed and choked on a lungful of pool water, sputtering. Alex beat him on his back.

"Thanks, lass."

Alex let go of the wall and placed both hands in Killian's.

"You won't let go?" Alex flapped her feet as Killian had taught her but didn't release Killian's hands. "You promise if I don't like it, you'll—"

"I won't let go ever." Killian edged them away from the security of the wall. "And the minute you want air, I'll bring you up."

Alex clenched her jaw. "Okay. Let's do it."

Killian moved an arm's length away, holding the girl afloat with his outstretched hands. Alex gave him a tiny smile. The trust and love as Alex's palms rested in his stole Killian's breath, and he experienced a moment of clarity.

Kind of the way he had lived before with his brother in Alaska, in childlike trust.. Anchored. And when trouble came, he wasn't lost in an icy storm at sea but found safe harbor.. Welcomed like that plucky picture-book sailboat, home at last.

"Alex—" he swallowed past the emotion clogging his throat "—you are the bravest, best girl I've ever known."

Emma joined them at the edge of the pool.

Alex kneaded Killian's hands and threw Emma what could only be described as a saucy look. "Well, sometimes I am. There was that puddle my puppy Tinker Bell left when I snuck her upstairs yesterday..."

Emma laughed. "And conveniently forgot to tell anybody about until..."

Alex winked. "Until Aunt Elsie stepped in it with her fancy shoes." Alex grinned. "You should've heard her scream."

Killian led the girl toward deeper water, farther over Alex's head. The way he felt more times than not around the girl's aunt Mimi. "Should have? I did hear her scream. All the way at the station."

Alex bobbed, sucking in a huge breath. She scissored downward in a sudden move, her strawberry blonde head submersing. Killian held tight to Alex's fingertips. He flicked a glance at Emma.

She shrugged. "Brave and bold. That's my Alex. Nothing halfway about her." She started counting. "One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thousand. Four, one thousand. Five, one thousand."

Killian detected the tiny quiver of Alex's fingers against his. He gripped the girl's hands and in a mighty heave-ho, Alex surged upward. Water cascaded off her body.

Alex exhaled in a gust of air. "How long, Mimi? Did you see me? How long?" She dashed water from her eyes and nose.

Emma waggled her fingers,. "Five seconds, Alex."

Killian tugged her closer for a hug. "Nice going, Alex."

Alex's eyes shone. "Next time it'll be twenty."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Did I mention brave, bold and insane, too?"

Killian grinned over Alex's head. "Just like a Coastie?"

Her lips quirked. "Whatever."

Over the next thirty minutes, Alex progressed from twenty seconds to floating support-free. Killian made sure the little girl understood how to dog-paddle her way to the steps and the wall.

Killian pushed toward the steps. "Time's up for today."

Alex practiced her scissor kick. "Do we haf to go now?"

A feeling Killian seconded. Who would have guessed a die-hard Coastie would come to consider this the highlight of his water-world week? There was a lot to be said for shore duty. Compensations, Killian acknowledged, with a surreptitious look at the redhead on the sideline. More to life than the thrill of a drug interdiction off the Florida Keys. More than battling the freezing-cold waters of Kodiak.

Emma lifted her shoulders and let them drop. "Your choice, Alex. Thought you might want to celebrate your first underwater dive, though, with a visit to the Sugar Shack."

Alex vaulted past Killian like one of the rocket-propelled missiles from Wallops Island. "Really? Ice cream before dinner? My favorite red-white-and-blue Patriot's Dream?"

Killian maneuvered the last step. Water streamed off his blue trunks and onto the concrete. Alex huddled into the beach towel Emma wrapped around her. "That invitation include me, Aunt Mimi? I wouldn't mind a little of that action myself."

With a smirk, Emma handed him his own towel. "I'm not your aunt Mimi."

Killian broadened his chest. "No, you're not."

His eyes drifted from the tendril of curls come loose from her ponytail to her green eyes. "Definitely not."

At his appraisal, a blush mounted from beneath the candy-pink blouse she wore tucked into her turned-up jeans. She fondled the pink sea-glass pendant at her throat. Whoever said redheads shouldn't wear pink didn't know anything. Not from where he was standing.

But being Emma, she jutted her jaw. "And as for what action you're referring to..."

He brushed the end of the towel over his face. "Why, ice cream, of course, Emma. What did you think I meant?" Killian crinkled his eyes at her. "Not yet an officer, but I am a gentleman."

She snorted.

He grinned. "And I'm willing to treat if you'll count me in."

Emma folded her arms and rocked back. "I don't need your—"

He growled and slung the rolled towel around his neck. "Are we really going to rehash this again? Can't you ever take things at face value? Quit analyzing everything so deeply. Seize the day, Emma. Take what's being offered in the spirit of—"

"That Coastie spirit is exactly what I'm talking about." She tossed her head, setting the ponytail aquiver.

Killian's eyes fastened onto the swaying mass as more strands came loose to frame her face. He pondered what the sun-kissed Shore girl would look like, her tresses billowing around her tanned shoulders.

His heart racing, Killian hung on for dear life to both ends of the towel straddling his neck. He cleared his throat and turned his attention—and thoughts—to his bare feet. "We better get a move on or Elsa will have my head if we're late to supper."

At the Sugar Shack, with his ice cream cone in hand, Killian soaked in the sun. The late-April morning chill had given way these past few days to a seasonable seventy by afternoon. Evenings after the sun dropped below the watery horizon could still be on the chilly side, but late afternoons were glorious.

His enjoyment of the peaceful simplicity of life here sort of surprised him. Made him wonder what he'd ever seen in the bright neon lights of Miami's hot spots. Made him wonder about a lot of choices he'd made.

Emma sank down beside Killian on the wooden picnic bench.

"Rocky Road is your favorite flavor, Nolan?" Killian ate around the rim of the cone.

She handed him a napkin. Alex had found a school friend with whom to explore the adjacent playground. "I guess."

Emma flicked a look at his melting cone. "I'd have never taken you for a strawberry ice cream guy." She sniffed. "Knowing how you feel about people like me."

"People like you and Alex and near everybody in a hundred-mile radius tend to grow on a guy."

She smiled. "Either that or we've worn you down." She smacked her lips while eating her ice cream cone. "Resistance is futile when it comes to Alex."

"She's not the only one."

Killian dabbed the napkin against Emma's cheek.

"Oh..." She caught his hand. "Did I make a mess of myself again?"

He relinquished the napkin to her. "You may be the most put-together person I've ever met. Me, on the other hand?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Killian Jones, boatswain's mate and coxswain, kindergarten swim instructor and dog obstetrician, doesn't do messes."

His cell vibrated on the picnic table between them. He ignored it and bit off a large hunk of ice cream. The cell bounced.

She glanced at the phone. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

He stretched out his legs and crossed his feet at the ankle. "Nope."

She edged closer when the phone buzzed again. "It could be important. Somebody from Florida. Old friend?"

"Don't have any old friends there. Not anymore. Just trouble."

Emma cocked her head. "Ah."

He bristled. "What does that mean?"

She fluttered her hand. "Explains everything. Your boat. Your attitude toward redheads. Somebody with red hair like me."

"Redheaded, Aye.. Like you?" He wiped his hands. "No. My former fiancée, Zelena, had lots of freckles." Killian thumbed the phone off. "A freckle for every soul she took."

Emma rolled her eyes. She ate the last remaining bit of the waffle cone. He tossed the remainder of his cone and the napkin into a nearby trash can.

Killian stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. "I came into port from patrol and found a letter. She Dear Johned me."

Emma touched his sleeve. "I'm sorry. She broke your heart."

"I was mad and hurt. At least at first." A line creased his brow. "I thought I was in love with her." He seized one of the stacked napkins. "Turns out that was a premature assessment from somebody with no clue what real love looked like." He grimaced. "Zelena did a number on my head. Not to mention my self-esteem. Took a sizable chunk of my ego with her, too."

Emma bumped him with her shoulder. "Wow. I'd hate to have seen the before-Zelena Coastie ego."

He laughed. "Aye, lass. I needed to be knocked down a peg...or two."

Emma rounded her eyes at him. "Ya think?"

He grunted. "Probably still need taking down a few more notches..."

Emma gave him a tiny salute. "Always ready to serve in whatever way I can, Jones."

He sprawled next to the table. "I can always count on you, Nolan."

Killian rubbed the five-o'clock stubble shadowing his jawline. Emma would probably never tell him, but Killian was even more appealing with facial hair.

Killian let out a puff of air. "Between you and the rest of the Nolan clan, not to mention a dog and her five pups, I don't think I've laughed this much or so often since..." His eyes flickered to the grass.

"Despite what you say now, I'm sorry she hurt you. You deserve better."

Emma nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "Have I told you how grateful I am to you for helping Alex learn to swim?"

Her gaze traveled to Alex, fully occupied with her friend in what resembled a re-staging of the Wesley/Inigo sword fight from Alex's favorite movie, _The Princess Bride._

She repressed a groan when Alex fell on the gravel. But she jumped to her feet, her shin only skinned. Alex waved at them and resumed her mock battle.

Alex, her muscles getting stronger every day and her face glowing with pink-cheeked health, had come a long way in three short weeks. So had Emma.

Shoulder to shoulder, Killian jostled her back. "No worries. I'll make a Coastie out of her yet. You wait and see." His eyes danced.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she huffed.

Wait and see.

Story of her life.

The lab reports were due any day now. Emma didn't know whether to feel sad or glad as the deadline loomed. Leastways, Killian had made the weeks fly by for her and Alex.

Closing her eyes, Emma lifted her face to the sun. Thank You, God, for this particular Coastie.

Killian grazed his arm against hers.

Her skin tingled, but she resisted the urge to open her eyes. She'd already spent enough time today gawking at his lean, chiseled features.

"Speaking of deserving better? No matter how often you brush off my attempts to express my admiration, Emma, I'm in awe of how you've held your family together, taken care of Elsa, your dad, the business and Alex. You deserve more."

Her eyes flew open. "Don't paint me as a saint, Killian. I've been angry, bitter, stung, enraged. You name it. I've been there." She rotated her head, trying to unkink her neck muscles. "Right now I'm stuck in the fear–slash–worry–slash–need-to-let-go- mode."

"You've got so many people praying for you." The teasing gone from his voice, he shook his head. "Even me. Who'd have guessed that?"

If only...

What was she thinking? This acknowledged here-today, gone-tomorrow Coastie boded no good for anyone, least of all her. After what had happened with her fiancé, Neal Cassidy,, she should know better. Did know better than to give anyone the power to hurt her again.

"Best you know one thing up front." She pivoted to face him. "There are two kinds of people here on the Shore, Killian."

He clamped his lips together. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

She rose. "Those who leave, like my sister Anna. And those like me, who never will."

"A week later as he braced onboard the rescue boat as it returned to harbor, Killian scanned the Storybrooke waterfront for one redhead in particular, but no luck. Everyone else, though—redheaded, blond, brunette or gray—appeared to be on the scene. He gritted his teeth and lowered the binoculars.

Emma Nolan made him so mad. Made him want to...

He refused to give voice to what immediately leaped to his mind. Something that involved his lips and hers and would've earned him a grappling hook in the gut from the feisty, elusive Shore girl. Without her at the pool this week, swimming lessons hadn't been as much fun for either Alex or him. Claiming a busy charter season, she'd also ducked out on early-morning coffee

He'd worn out his welcome waiting for her to return home each night.

When Scarlet approached the bow, with deliberate effort Killian forced his mind off the troublesome redhead and onto his job.

Scarlet squared his shoulders. "Nine thousand gallons of diesel, the captain says, but so far so good. No leakage, debris or pollution, sir."

The seventy-one-foot yacht had run aground of the breakers in the Storybrooke channel and stuck fast. Killian supervised the station's response team evacuation of the three-member _Nellie G_ crew. With dusk imminent and an early-May thunderstorm on the horizon, a salvage ship couldn't tow the pleasure boat into harbor until morning.

Killian monitored as his team escorted the reluctant-to-abandon-ship captain off the deck. "The pollution response trailer from Station Chincoteague will be on-site, just in case, though, right, Scarlet?"

"Affirmative, XPO."

"Good."

Back at the station, Killian finished the last of the paperwork on the rescue as Scarlet sauntered out of the locker room. A waft of Old Spice floated past Killian's nose. He waved a hand to clear the air. "Hot date, Scarlet?"

Will Scarlet skidded to a stop. A wary look crossed his face. "Aye,, Petty Officer Jones. I'm off duty now."

"Hmm."

The upper half of Scarlet's body strained with the effort not to lunge for the door. Guardsman discipline sent Scarlet into regulation stance, his hands behind his back. But his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Was there something you needed, XPO?"

"I won't keep you long, I promise, Scarlet. But there's something I want to speak to you about, of a personal nature."

Scarlet's dark eyebrows arched. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Permission granted."

"Does this have anything to do with Elsa Nolan?"

"It does."

Scarlet flushed. "Pardon my saying so, XPO, but it's none of your business."

His chair scraping, Killian came out from behind the desk and got inches from Scarlet's face.

"That's where you're wrong, Scarlet. I've seen your record. Heard through the Coastie grapevine how you acquitted yourself at your last duty station."

Scarlet's eyes widened as Killian jabbed a finger in his shirt.

"You, Scarlet, are under my command here, and Elsa Nolan, along with her entire family, is under my protection in this town."

Will Scarlet's brow lowered into a V. "Grapevine works both ways."

Killian gave Scarlet credit for guts—alongside stupidity—because Scarlet neither backpedaled nor apologized.

"You better think long and hard about what you plan to say next, Boatswain's Mate Third Class."

Scarlet aimed his eyes over Killian's shoulder at the map of the Eastern Shore on the wall. "Only saying what is common knowledge among the ranks. How you exercised less-than-officer-candidate wisdom after your lass dumped you."

Killian fumed. That wasn't exactly what had gone down the day long after he received Zelena's letter. But close enough.

Hurt and infuriated that night, Killian drowned his sorrows in rum at a Coastie-frequented bar. Killian had known better. He'd been raised better. But he had possessed enough sense to excuse himself from driving the boat when the distress call had come through the next morning after reporting for duty.

Killian had known he was in no fit state, physically or emotionally, to pilot the boat and lead his crew, much less the people on board the sinking pontoon boat filled with Cuban refugees. Luckily his XPO had been there to take the wheel. Yet after heaving his guts and pride over the side of the boat, Killian had managed to assist in the rescue effort, refusing to give in to his weakness.

And with the rest of the crew occupied in the shark-infested waters trying to save the frantic immigrants, he'd dived over the side to rescue a terrified child clinging to the body of her already drowned mother. Nightmares of the chaos that reigned that afternoon in the Keys haunted his dreams to this day. As did the cries of those none of the Guard had been able to save...

He struggled to regain his breath—and control of this junior Guardsman so very like Killian Jones at that age.

Insubordinate. Insufferable know-it-all. Brash. Arrogant.

"The Nolans are good people, Scarlet."

Scarlet's dar eyes flashed to Killian before returning to his deadpan stare of the wall.

"Don't ruin her life, Scarlet. Please..."

Scarlet went into military stance, his heels clicking. "Could say the same thing to you. About the other one."

Killian went rigid.

"Permission to be dismissed—" Scarlet's lips twisted as he threw Killian a salute "—Chief Petty Officer First Class Jones?"

Killian stared the Coastie down until Scarlet dropped his eyes. "I'm warning you, Scarlet. You hurt her, and I'll make sure you learn the real meaning of regret."

Emma fluffed her hair. No time to dry it before the Wednesday-night church supper and prayer meeting. She'd returned the tourists on her boat to the Storybrooke harbor and puttered home in time to scrub the fish smell off her skin and change her clothes.

In Storybrooke nobody cared about those things so much because everyone knew the score once deep-sea fishing got underway. Folks worked two or three jobs—whatever it took in the off-season—to pay the bills and make a living on the rugged coastline. And business had been brisk—a wonderful thing, praise God, considering the loan officer's last phone call—these past few weeks with flounder season kicking into high gear and charter boat cruises in high demand.

Without the financial wherewithal to hire a first mate, she was left doing all the work herself. And she'd also made it a policy to avoid Killian over the past week. Because she liked him more than she should.

Time to shore up her emotional defenses. Because that smile of his did funny things to her heart. She was already afraid she was in way over her head.

Emma pulled a shirt out of the closet and then discarded it in favor of another on the chance she encountered Killian in the kitchen, where she'd left him a plate for dinner. But when Emma headed downstairs, it was Elsa who watched the driveway through the front bay window.

Pausing on the landing, Emma crossed her arms. "Got a date, sis?"

Elsa swung around and wobbled in her black espadrilles. "What are you doing sneaking around the house?" She placed a hand over her heart and scowled

"You almost gave me a heart attack. I didn't hear you come home."

"Me sneaking?" Emma frowned. "Dare I hope the reason you're skipping out on church tonight is 'cause you're meeting Jasmine or Belle or at least that nice August Booth who's been sweet on you since high school?"

Elsa rolled her eyes.. "Twenty-six, Emma. I'm twenty-six years old and perfectly capable of making my own decisions on who I spend my time with."

Emma's eyes narrowed, "Speaking of decisions, you should be filling out the class registration forms if you're not going to church tonight."

Elsa groaned. "Can't you get it through your stubborn head I don't want to go off-Shore to a University? I want to stay here." She stamped her foot. "Like you."

Emma's mouth tightened and she moved toward her sister. "Unlike me, I want you to have a future, Elsa. I only want what's best—"

"I've got plenty of future right here. Getting this Bed and Breakfast started. Classes at the community college in business and hospitality. Things that matters to me. Not calculus or sociology or any of the boring stuff you think is so important."

Emma jutted her hip. "Options, Elsa. What's wrong with expanding your horizons?"

"What's wrong with this horizon, Emma?" Elsa waved her hand. "Good enough for you, good enough for me. Stop trying to live out your disappointed dreams through me, through a future I don't want."

Emma dug her fingernails into her hands to stop the angry retort that rose on her lips. Headlights swept across the driveway. Elsa grabbed her purse.

But Emma stepped between Elsa and the door. "News flash—there's no Shore future to be had with a skirt-chasing Coastie like Will Scarlet. I'm begging you, Elsa, stay away from him!"

Elsa pushed past Emma. "News flash, sis, you threw away your chance for happiness." She flung the door wide. "I'm not throwing away mine."

Pain lanced Emma's heart as Elsa skipped down the wide-planked front steps and flopped into the flashy blue convertible with Will Scarlet. White-faced with anger, Elsa said something to the Guardsman. Palming the wheel, Will gave Emma a look she couldn't interpret. Hitting the accelerator, he gunned the Chevy, tires spraying gravel, toward the road where the taillights disappeared from view.

Emma clenched her eyes shut. "God, don't let her do something stupid 'cause she's mad with me." She stifled a sob.

Taking several deep, steadying breaths, Emma retrieved her keys and locked the house. She was thankful Dad had picked Alex up from school and put his apprentice-in-training granddaughter to work at the boat shop this afternoon. Waiting for her at church, they'd wonder at her delay.

Parking beside Dad's Silverado in the overflowing lot beside the sanctuary, Emma hurried into the fellowship hall. On the menu tonight, Miss Ursula's crab imperial and Miss Joanna's Smith Island cake. Enough said.

Emma's mouth watered at the smells wafting from the church kitchen. Lunch in the cooler on the _Now I Sea_ seemed like decades ago.

She spotted her dad running his mouth with the pastor, but couldn't locate Alex in the sea of people crowding the newly refurbished fellowship hall. Until a familiar tropical-blue USCG uniform stood. A hesitant look in his too-blue eyes, Killian twisted the cap in his hand.

Treacherous pleasure at the sight of him zinged through her veins.

Alex peeked from behind the Guardsman's legs and waved. "Over here, Mimi!"

Heads turned and conversation died at the jet-engine decibel level of her beloved niece's voice.

"What took you so long? Killian and I been ready to eat forever."

Chuckles broke out across the room. Perspiration crept down the back of her neck. "Alex!" she hissed. "Inside voice."

Killian strode toward her with Alex on his heels. "Hey, Emma. Fancy meeting you here." He cocked his head. "Long time no see."

He handed her a Chinet plate and gave her that lethal, one-sided grin of his. Emma snatched the plate from his hand.

"Mimi," Alex said, again with the not-so-inside voice. "It's not nice to—"

"I better see plenty of green beans on this plate, missy."

She thrust the plate at her niece.

Alex took the plate and raised her eyebrows at Killian on the other side of the food-laden table. "Mimi's been ill all week, Killian."

She shuffled Alex forward. "We're holding up the line." Not to mention creating a spectacle. "And I haven't been sick."

Killian plopped a mound of coleslaw onto his plate.

"Not sick ill, Mimi." Alex helped herself to three rolls. "Southern ill."

Alex leaned over the table in Killian's direction. "Bad mood. Granddad says—"

"Alexandra!"

Emma fanned her face with her plate. Killian laughed out loud. As did several other ladies and gentlemen, including the mayor and choir director. Emma propelled Alex past the desserts and toward the eating area. She yanked out a chair.

"Sit." She pointed. "Plant your bottom in this chair. Don't you move until you eat every bite of your dinner and it's time for kid's group."

Killian positioned his plate across from Alex. He smiled that crooked smile of his at Emma, causing her pulse to go into overdrive.

She pivoted on her heel. "I'll get our drinks."

Killian fell in alongside. "I'll help."

"Kind of hard not to move and chew at the same time, Meee-meee..."

Emma cringed as Alex's bellow followed her across the room. She stalked toward the ice tea glasses at the cutout kitchen window. Killian eased in at her elbow as they waited their turn. His body shook with laughter.

She bristled. "Don't encourage her."

"I love that little lass.." He slanted his eyes at her. "Love how he knows just the right buttons to push. She's so bright. Full of—"

"Alex is full of something, all right. What're you doing here? I left your usual Wednesday-night plate in the microwave."

She reached for a plastic glass the same moment Killian chose that one, too. Drawing back, she knocked over two adjacent cups. She gasped. Ice cubes sloshed and sweet tea dribbled off the countertop.

Killian grabbed for another cup to keep it from rolling off the edge. "Note my lightning-quick reflexes."

He batted his eyes at her. Way prettier than her own, disappeared-without-mascara eyes.

Milah Cassidy, her former fiancé Neal's mother, handed Emma a stack of napkins. "Here. Let me grab a dishcloth."

Emma closed her eyes.

God, take me now. Please. I'm begging You.

Killian removed the napkins from Emma's hand and proceeded to mop up the mess she'd—they'd—created.

"Where's your famous Shore hospitality, Emma Ruth Nolan? Don't you love how you've managed to wrangle this Coastie reprobate into these hallowed halls?"

Emma opened her mouth to respond when Milah sidled over with a dishcloth. She shoved the cloth at Emma, and with a warm smile extended her hand to Killian.

"Milah Cassidy, Mr. Jones. I'm so pleased to meet you after all the things I've heard."

Killian gave Emma a sidelong glance before shaking Milah's hand. "Good things, I hope, Mrs. Cassidy."

"Wasn't me." Emma clamped her teeth together and scrubbed the counter. "Or it wouldn't be good."

Milah's lips twitched. She exchanged the cloth in Emma's hand for another tea glass. "Strawberries are at their peak this week, Emma. Missed you last year."

Emma clutched the cup as if her life depended on it. "I don't know if I can make it this year. Lots of charters scheduled."

She threw a look over her shoulder to make sure Alex was okay. Her dad had taken a spot next to the small girl. Alex also chatted with a fellow princess enthusiast from Sunday school, probably attempting to offload—per Emma's instructions—yet another Labradoodle pup."

"Your dad loves the strawberry jam you and Elsa make. And Alex loves the strawberry syrup with her pancakes. Your supply's bound to be getting low. To paraphrase an old song, you've got to gather those berries while you may. In May."

"I'm sorry for...for not..." Hot tears prickled Emma's eyelids. "I—I don't know if I can, Milah." She chewed at her lower lip. "Too late in the season. Maybe never..."

Killian stilled. He placed a hand at the small of her back.

Milah's gaze hopscotched between Emma and the Guardsman. Her blue eyes softened. "The crops have been good this year. The sweetest strawberries I've seen in a long while, dear."

Emma quivered.

Killian took the drinks from Emma.

"Please, Emma? Try." Milah leaned across the counter and squeezed her hand.

"Friday?"

Emma swallowed and nodded.

Milah patted Emma's arm. "Be sure you bring your little girl. And this big guy, too." She flashed Killian a smile. "You know how I love a Coastie."

Emma fought against the suffocating anguish with which she'd awoken each dawn since Neal's death.

"Lots of buckets to fill, dear." She touched Emma's cheek. "No worries. God is good. You're still in plenty of time."

Outside the sanctuary, Killian watched Emma buckle Alex into David's truck after the prayer meeting. David had promised a drive-by at the McDonald's in Onley for a milk shake if Alex successfully completed her Bible memorization project this week. Emma waved to Alex as David steered out of the parking lot. Swiveling toward the church, she gave Killian a shy smile.

The breath whooshed out of Killian's lungs.

He strolled over to Emma and her Jeep. The now-familiar Faith Hill song came out of the cell tucked in the back pocket of her jeans.

Killian smirked.

She rolled her eyes and fished it out. "Been meaning to change that, but—" Her eyes scanned the text message.

"What's wrong?"

She dug for the keys in her front pocket. The color drained from her face.

He snagged her wrist. "Emma?"

She shrugged him off and scrambled inside the Jeep. "It's Elsa. She's—"

The keys tumbled from her hand and clattered onto the asphalt.

Emma laid her head on the steering wheel. "I begged her, but she wouldn't listen.."

Killian retrieved the keys. "What's happened? Is she okay?"

She raised her head. "She's stranded at the beach in Ocean City." Emma closed her eyes. "Oh, Elsa. What have you done?"

"I'll drive you there."

Her eyes flew to his face. "No!" Her features shadowed. "I'm not sure in what state I'll find her."

Killian tightened his jaw. "Scarlet's responsible for this, I'm guessing. Right?"

She gulped and nodded.

He squared his shoulders. "You're upset and there's no way I'm letting you go by yourself. Besides, I have a few choice words for my junior Guardsman."

"Scarlet's not there." She shook her head. "He skipped out on her. Abandoned her. Left her all alone..."

"All the more reason why I should go."

Her eyes teared. "If anyone hears about this..." She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Who am I kidding? You flush a toilet at one end of the peninsula and seconds later everybody knows at the other end."

Emma hit the wheel with the palm of her hand. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

"Scoot over. You're in no shape to drive." He folded his arms. "I'm not letting you deal with this by yourself, lass."

Emma searched his face. Something she saw there apparently satisfied her.

"Okay. But I'd prefer you follow me in your own truck."

Killian released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Waiting for her to trust him. Just a little. He raked a hand through his dark hair.. "I'll follow, Emma. You lead. But wait for me before you search the beach."

He dogged her taillights for the almost ninety-minute drive north. Emma wheeled onto US-113, headed east on Ocean Gateway over the bridge and zigzagged past boats docked at the marina. She drove past a thriving nightlife and steered toward a shabbier section of the waterfront.

Killian pulled his truck into a well-lit convenience store parking lot across the street from the public access to the beach. Emma steered the Jeep into the parking lot underneath an electric light next to the wooden steps. Elsa sat huddled on the landing that straddled the dunes. Her back to them, she gazed out toward the dark, foaming waters of the ocean.

He threw open his door and slung his feet to the ground. A nearby engine turned over. A low-slung vehicle emerged from the shadows and edged past the corner of the store. His brow scrunched. The flashy blue Chevy merged into traffic and swung into a much-frequented watering hole farther down the boardwalk.

Traversing the two-lane road, he'd barely reached Emma's Jeep before she launched herself out of the driver's side and barreled toward the steps.

"Emma..." He grabbed her arm. "Hang on a tic. Let me take point on this."

She bit her lip but stepped aside.

Killian glanced around the deserted beach and assessed the situation. He climbed the steps toward the platform.

Emma hustled past him. "Elsa..."

Elsa burst into tears and covered her face with her hands. Emma closed the distance separating them.

With a hiccuping, little girl–like sob, she stumbled into her sister's outstretched arms. "You were r-right. I should've never trusted h-him."

Emma enfolded her into an embrace.

"Did Scarlet hurt you, Elsa?" Killian struggled to contain his fear and rage.

Elsa's head shot up. She backed out of Emma's arms. "No. He never once... We never..." Elsa glared. "We always just sat in his car and talked. Or walked on the beach under the stars. Will was always a perfect gentleman."

"Some gentleman." Emma's mouth hardened. "Seeing how he abandoned you at night in a not-so-desirable part of town."

"I just don't understand what happened." Elsa's face crumpled. "Yesterday everything between us was fine. I even told him—" she turned her face away "—that...that I loved him."

Emma drew her close again.

Elsa shook her head as if she couldn't quite bring herself to believe it. "All evening, it was as if he was trying to pick a fight with me. Then Will brought me here. And he told me—" Elsa's voice caught, but she straightened her spine. "Said I wasn't the kind of girl a guy like him wanted."

Killian clenched his hands into fists.

Elsa squeezed Emma's arm. "Why? Why did he ruin everything?"

Killian narrowed his eyes at Elsa's choice of words. Elsa rested her cheek on Emma's shoulder, reminding Killian of Alex. "What's wrong with me?"

Emma's face constricted. "Oh, sweetie, there's nothing wrong with you."

Killian reached a hand toward them, but Emma jerked away.

And anger stirred Killian's gut. Yet another nail pounded in his Coastie courtship coffin thanks to Will Scarlet. And not only with Emma, but the whole Nolan clan.

"Take her home, Emma."

"What about—"

"My Coastie, my mess to clean up. Just get her home."

Defiance sparked from Emma's stormy green eyes, but a renewed round of sobbing prompted her to lead Elsa toward the waiting Jeep.

Killian navigated his truck toward the street and gunned it to the bar and his misguided coxswain.

The noise level hit Killian before he even got out of his truck. The interior glowed neon. Similar Miami hot spots burned in Killian's memories. And forestalled the swift retribution he'd like to impose on a particular young Guardsman. He spotted Scarlet five spaces over, leaning against the hood of the Chevy. Clad in the same shirt and jeans he'd been wearing when Killian last saw him at the station, Scarlet hunkered over an unopened beer.

Killian sidled over. "Petty Officer Scarlet."

Will's hand spasmed around the bottle.

"You're in a world of trouble, Boatswain's Mate."

Scarlet poked out his lips. "Like my record attests, nothing new." He gripped the alcoholic beverage.

Killian adopted a nonchalant pose. "Because I know what's in your record from before you enlisted, I'd think twice about taking that first sip back to oblivion, Will. Don't ruin your life."

Scarlet's hand shook.

"Your addict mother in and out of your life. Your father in prison after an alcohol-induced armed robbery. The foster homes. The hard work you put in to be different, to make something of yourself."

Scarlet kept his eyes fastened on the condensation etched across the glass bottle in his hand. "Maybe time to finally accept the inevitability of my gene pool."

Killian crossed his arms. "I saw you parked beside the convenience store. You waited and watched to make sure Elsa was okay until we arrived."

Scarlet hunched his shoulders.

"You cut her loose on purpose, didn't you, Will?" Killian sighed.

"Don't know that I'd sanction your strategy, but your tactics were effective, albeit brutal."

Scarlet hurled the bottle toward a nearby Dumpster. Glass splintered against the sides and liquid spewed onto the sandy parking lot.

"Why'd you dump her tonight, Will? Because she told you she—"

Scarlet reared. "Following your orders, XPO, not to ruin her life. 'Cause everyone who gets too close, I ruin."

"I'm sorry, Will. I misjudged you." Killian scrutinized him. "You did this for her own good because you lov—"

Scarlet launched himself off the hood. "I don't love anyone. I can't afford to love anyone. Just the Guard. I got plans that don't involve Storybrooke." His chest heaved.

Pity rose in Killian's heart for the young man. A young man who uncomfortably reminded Killian of himself after he'd lost his parents, his brother, and Zelena.

"What can I do for you now, Scarlet? What do you need?"

Will rocked back on his heels. "I need— I want to get off this peninsula. I can't face her again, Boats. I—" He swallowed. "I need an assignment with more action. Less time to think. More maritime enforcement potential."

Killian nodded. "You'll get it, I promise, though USCG assignments don't exist for the Coastie, but the other way around." He shot the young man a look. "I've got a friend at headquarters..."

Will widened his stance, his hands behind his back.

"I'll clear it with Chief Locksley. You can be on your way by daybreak."

Scarlet went into full military attention. He rammed the side of his hand into his forehead. "Thank you, Petty Officer Jones. But promise me, please—" His composure wavered. "Promise me you won't ever tell Elsa the truth, or she might—"

"I don't believe in lying to people. Especially people I care about, Scarlet. But I will promise for now I'll keep this whole incident between you and me."

Later, when Killian veered into the Nolan driveway, he felt compelled to stop and check on Elsa. And although apprehensive of his welcome, driven to check most particularly on Elsa's older sister, who insisted on carrying everyone's pain on her own shoulders.

With the house lit like a Christmas tree, he found most of the Nolans on the wraparound porch, backlit by the lights spilling from the interior. Ensconced in a rocker, David loaded his shotgun. His usually placid blue eyes glowed with a fierceness that gave Killian pause. A human pogo stick, Alex bounced from one end of the porch to the other. And Emma shot Killian a not-so-friendly look as his tread creaked on the steps.

She tugged at the box of cartridges in David's hand. "Daddy, please..."

"Why's Aunt Elsie crying? What's wrong, Mimi? Are we going hunting, Granddad?"

"Lock and load. We're going huntin', all right, Alex," David growled. "We're huntin' some lowlifes tonight.."

"Daddy." Emma rubbed her forehead. "Alex, stop jumping." She flung out her hands. "Are you just going to stand there, Killian, and let my father—"

"I took care of the situation, Mr. Nolan."

"You did?" Emma's voice squeaked. "What happened?"

David's eyes went to half-mast. Alex stilled. Feigning a nonchalance he didn't feel, Killian leaned against one of the railed columns. "Let's just say Will Scarlet won't ever bother Elsa again."

David grunted. "My daughter. Mine to protect. If I'd have known..." But he set down the gun and rubbed his grizzled chin.

"I know you would have, Mr. Nolan. But part of my job is community relations and goodwill." Killian grimaced. "Which, unfortunately, Scarlet single-handedly managed to sabotage tonight."

Emma snatched the gun as Alex inched closer, her eyes locked on the weapon. "Dad, you know better than to leave this lying about..."

Killian grinned. Sounded like _aboot_.

Emma scowled at her father and thrust the gun at his chest.

"Dad."

"Okay, okay. Simmer down." David patted Alex's shoulder. "Couple more years, my girl, and I promise you we'll"

"Dad!"

David laughed and the tension eased. He held out his hand to Killian. After a second's hesitation, Killian took it.

"Thanks for taking care of Elsa." David cut his eyes at Emma. "For taking care of both of my girls."

Emma made a growling sound. Steam radiated off her like water evaporating on a July day in the Chesapeake.

"My pleasure, Mr. Nolan."

David chuckled. "Still David to you, son." He slapped his gnarled hands upon the arms of the rocker. "Me and you, Alexandra, better go check on Aunt Elsie." He shepherded a protesting Alex toward the door and left Killian alone on the porch with Emma and her fury.

She advanced on his position with bloodlust in her eyes. "So what did you do to Scarlet?"

Not having been raised to be a fool, Killian backpedaled a step.

"Bust his chops? Better yet, bust that arrogant, punk face of his. Smash his..." Emma stalked closer. He retreated until his back pressed the railing. Sweet hospitality might drip from these Southern gals—until you got them good and riled. Then all bets were off.

He moistened his bottom lip. "I took care of it. Got him reassigned to another duty station off-Shore and far away. He'll be gone by morning."

"Oh." She uncoiled. "I guess I owe you my thanks, too." But just as quickly she repositioned the boulder-size chip on her shoulder. "Just another example of what happens when you let emotion overrule common sense with a Coastie."

His hopes sank to the depths of the Great Machipongo Inlet. "Emma, let me explain what—"

She spun on her heel. "Not a mistake I intend to make, I promise you." She yanked on the door handle. "I'm taking out a charter in a few short hours. Before daybreak. You can get your own breakfast."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Killian gave her a mock salute. "Your gratitude is a little underwhelming, but in the Coast Guard, we live to serve, ma'am."

She slammed the door in his face.

His lips curved.

Don't call us, 'cause we won't call you, huh?

They'd just have to see about that. Because Shore Girl wasn't the only one as stubborn as a sea barnacle.

First light dockside on Thursday, Killian did not even try to keep the grin off his face at Emma's startled look. He handed her a steaming mug of coffee.

She folded her arms against her You'll Love Our Nature, Eastern Shore, VA T-shirt. "What are you doing here?"

He planted his boat shoe against the _Now I Sea_ railing. "Is that the only thing you can ever say to me, lass? How about 'Good morning, Killian'? How about showing me some of that lovable Eastern Shore nature?" He leaped aboard.

She scowled. "I'll show you some Eastern Shore nature..."

He grinned when she grabbed the sloshing mug from him.

"It's about balance, my dear Miss Nolan. Like in life. Permission to board?"

She pursed her lips. "Looks as if you've already boarded, Jones. Without my permission. But then again, you Coasties know about barging onto boats uninvited."

Killian shaded his hand against his eyes as the sun topped the windswept dunes of the offshore barrier island. "Only for safety inspections. You're doing the work of two without a first mate on board." He pushed back his shoulders. "How's Elsa doing?"

She coiled her fist around the handle of the ceramic mug. "Elsa cried herself to sleep. She's not up yet." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you citing me, Jones? And last time I checked, a first mate wasn't a requirement for this size vessel."

Emma held her other hand in the air, ticking off each finger. "I've filed a float plan with the marina harbor master, got life jackets for each passenger, have a radio to contact help in case of an emergency and I carry signal flares in case I need rescue." She jutted her jaw. "And I repeat, I don't need a rescue."

He made a palms-up gesture. "Never would I presume to rescue a seasoned mariner such as yourself." Killian reached for the bait bucket on the Nolan dock. "And do I look as if I've come in an official capacity?"

Setting the bucket on deck, he angled to find Emma's jade-green eyes looking at him. She blushed and trained her gaze on the outgoing tide. "What have you come for, then?"

"Got a couple off duty days and I've come to offer my services as your first mate, that's what."

She pressed the coffee mug against her chest. "I didn't ask for your help."

He widened his stance, hands pressed behind his back. "I offered. Am offering. You've got customers waiting at the Storybrooke dock and unless—" he cut his eyes left and right "—you plan to physically hoist me overboard, I don't see how you're going to stop me."

She mumbled something, probably uncomplimentary, under her breath. But she stepped aside.

Crossing his arms, he relaxed against the railing. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other."

She put her lips against the rim of the mug and took a deep drink.

Not trusting herself to speak?

Killian smiled. "Red sky last night. It's going to be a gorgeous day."

And it was.

They chugged into the harbor and collected their six-person tour before 7:00 a.m. Emma, tight-lipped, permitted him to welcome their guests on board.

Killian made sure all the kids under thirteen donned life jackets. And he also spent a fair amount of time explaining safe boating rules. Once underway, Killian busied himself demonstrating how to bait and hook the reels for these first-time deep-water fishermen. Skirting the tidal marshes, the _Now I Sea_ wove its way past the ruins of barrier island villages. Emma gave an overview of once-thriving Eastern Shore fishing and farming communities that were now desolate coastal towns.

"The Blizzard of 1887." She steered away from Hog Island. "Nor'easter of 1910."

One hand on the wheel, Emma pointed to the stone foundations of a lighthouse on a smaller island not far, Killian realized, from her Storybrooke home.

"My Nolan ancestors lived there back in the day. And before the modern Coast Guard, it was also the home of a lifesaving boat station until the hurricane of 1933 engulfed the island. A third of the island disappeared beneath the waves. Residents fled to the mainland, never to return. The ocean rises six inches every century. The islands shift, grow and shrink according to the whim of the tide."

She flicked him a look as if laying down a gauntlet.

Which he couldn't resist accepting.

"Tough Eastern Shore stock, the Nolans. Survivors like my own hardy Britain forebears." Killian gave her a crooked smile. "What a great gene pool we have between the two of us, Emma."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a nice view of her back.

Clearing the last of the barrier island chain, she dropped anchor at a prime fishing spot a few miles offshore. The day was beautiful. The sun glinted off the ocean like a string of gemstones.

He shared tales of some of the more haphazard boaters he'd encountered in his years with the Guard, which sent the teenage guests into gales of laughter. One of the women allowed him the honor of setting her bait. Emma shot the woman a disgruntled look after the fifth such time.

Around noon, Emma moored in the crescent-moon bay near one of the deserted islands. Leaving the passengers to the lunches they'd brought on board, she grabbed her cooler and headed for the stern. Following in her wake, Killian eased down beside her.

She scooted to make room and handed him a sandwich.

"Thanks. I hope I'm not robbing you of your well-deserved lunch."

She unwrapped another sandwich. "I always bring extra in case someone forgets to pack a lunch."

They chewed in silence for a moment. Shoulder to shoulder, they watched the seagulls wheel above them. Shorebirds hoping for a morsel of the bounty. Like him?

He smirked.

She cut her eyes at him. "What?"

"Nothing." Killian took in a quick lungful of the fragrant sea air. "Quite the life you've carved out for yourself here. Peaceful. I can see why you love it."

She extended a bottle of water to him. "You do a great job pleasing the customers."

Killian unscrewed the cap and took a big swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Only person I care about pleasing is the captain of this vessel."

Her cheeks rosied, but she stared him down. "Why do you care?"

"I thought we were friends." His voice, despite a determined effort, held a note of hurt. "Friends help each other. Has something changed that I'm not aware of?"

Emma turned away, folding and squaring the brim of her Nandua Warrior ball cap. She said nothing, but gazed out over the breaking waves.

Killian frowned. "Isn't that the agreement we made? Until Alex's all-clear report. Happy summer memories. Fourth of July picnic."

So not the whole truth. But Killian was suddenly scared of what the truth might be. Scared of his feelings. Scared of what Emma felt—or didn't feel—for him.

He ran his hand over his head, forgetting about his cap and sending it spiraling toward the water. Emma made a quick grab for it. Killian retrieved it from her with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I seem to make a habit of losing my headgear, don't I?"

The real danger, if he was honest, was the danger of losing his heart over one particular Shore girl.

Killian grimaced. He'd known she was trouble the moment he'd laid eyes on her. As if that foreknowledge had done him any good in the long run. Her lips quirked as if she read his thoughts. Killian gulped. Sometimes he wondered if she could read him better than anyone he'd ever known. And yet, despite a well-earned caution, he couldn't seem to help himself. Couldn't stop seeking Emma out. Searching for ways to be near her. To—

"How are Alex's swim lessons going?"

Killian cleared his throat. "She's a fish now."

She smiled and sipped her bottle of water. "She looks stronger every day. I'm so proud of her ."

Killian nodded. "We've progressed beyond the dog paddle to basic strokes. I got her to jump off the side yesterday." His mouth curved. "Alex immediately wanted to try the diving board." Emma gasped. "No worries. I told her one daredevil stunt at a time. Her underwater mission tomorrow is to retrieve a coin off the bottom of the pool."

Her eyes rounded. "Really? She's come that far?"

Killian tweaked the brim of her cap. "That lass has the heart of a true warrior. Like her Aunt Mimi. No fear."

She sighed. "Aunt Mimi has a lot of fears."

Killian laced his fingers through hers. And was inordinately pleased when she kept her hand in his.

He brushed his thumb over the suntanned skin on her hand. "Maybe a better word is courage. That's what they teach us in the Guard. True courage moves forward despite the fear."

She raised her eyes from their entwined hands to his face. Never breaking eye contact, he lifted her hand to his lips. "Like you do, Emma, every day."

Emma worried her lower lip with her teeth.

"Tomorrow," she whispered. "Early half-day charter. Alex has a teacher workday, and if you've got time, I could go with you and Alex for the next lesson."

"I've always got time for you and Alex, Shore Girl."

"Oh, Killian." She released a sigh so deep his heart pinged. "What am I going to do with you?"

Killian held his breath as if with her answer, she balanced his entire life in her hands.

"How do you feel about picking strawberries afterward?" Emma's voice sounded on the verge of tears. "I love strawberries."

Killian's eyes locked onto hers. "Me, too." He tilted his head toward Emma.

"Captain Nolan? First Mate Jones? Is that a pod of dolphins starboard?"

She snatched her hand free and scrambled to her feet. "Where?" She headed toward her clients lounging at the bow of the boat.

And the moment passed. For now, Killian promised himself. Just for now.

"Are you going to die, too, Killian?" Alex jerked his head toward the white clapboard farmhouse. "Like him?"

"Like who, Alex?" Killian shook his head. "No, I'm not planning on dying anytime soon. But God's the one in charge of that, not me."

Killian's eyes widened. Had he—Killian Arthur Jones—actually just said that?

"Like Miss Milah's son, Neal. He and Mimi were friends. They were s'posed to get married."

Killian swallowed. Alex dangled her legs off the tailgate and let them swing. "He died when I went to the hospital across the bay the first time. Granddad crossed the bridge to tell Mimi."

"He was Coast Guard?" Killian darted a glance at the house into which Emma had disappeared.

Alex nodded. "That's the saddest I ever saw her."

Killian's gut clenched. Emma's "friend" had died in the line of duty? He recalled the angry words Elsa had hurled at her sister a few weeks earlier.

The little girl pumped her legs scissor-like, as if treading water. "Thing is, when I die—"

"Alex." Killian laid his hand on top of Alex's shins to stop her and gain the girl's attention. "You're not going to die."

The girl shrugged. "I don't want Mimi to be alone. And sad." Alex peered at him. "You make her laugh. She likes you. I can tell."

Killian captured Alex's small hand. "You're not going to die."

Alex curled his fingers through Killian's. "I'm not scared. Mimi 'splained it to me when it hurt real bad last time. She says dying's like pushing off into the water from the shore." She squeezed Killian's hand. "Or like letting go of the side of the pool, I figure. The hard part in dying, Mimi says, is letting go of what you know."

Killian's heart seized.

Alex motioned to the ribbon of water visible through the trees. "But you got to let go and push out toward deeper water." Alex smiled. "Mimi says not to be afraid. The best stuff, the biggest fish, are always found in the deeper water."

The screen door banged against the door frame. Emma, in her faded jeans and hole-in-the-big-toe hot pink Keds, strode across the lawn toward them. She gripped several white plastic buckets. His pulse quickened.

Alex smacked her lips. "I bet I can fill my bucket quicker than a Coastie." She propelled herself off the tailgate and raced to meet her aunt halfway.

Killian focused on Emma. Her eyes were red rimmed, as if she'd been crying. She sniffed and pulled herself together once Alex drew closer. She laughed at something Alex said.

Catching sight of Killian, a pinpoint of light warmed her eyes. And a tiny smile, for him, lifted one corner of her mouth.

He yearned to touch the fiery sunlight of her hair. To hold her in the circle of his arms. She held one of the buckets out to him. His heart beat double time.

Today called for full disclosure. A transparent vulnerability. Not only had Killian sought the wrong answers to his life, but until now he'd been asking all the wrong questions.

Killian squared his shoulders.

 _Either fish or cut bait, Jones._

 _Sink or swim._

Time to go deep.

"We're supposed to pay by the pound picked." Emma laughed. "Maybe it'd be simpler to put Alex on the scale."

Alex squatted beside a cluster of ripened strawberry plants. The little girl discarded her bucket two rows earlier. Now, as the red juice splattered over her cheeks testified, she was just feeding her face.

Reclining against the arching pecan tree, Emma jostled the lounging Coastie. "And she's not the only one."

Killian gestured toward the buckets overflowing with red berries. "I picked my weight in strawberries, I'll have you know." He leaned on his elbow, propping his head in his hand.

His gaze roamed across her face. The warmth in his regard took Emma's breath. Blushing at the intensity in his eyes, she focused on the muscle jumping in his jaw.

What was happening here? To her common sense? To her heart?

She'd do well to remember Ashley and now Elsa—and the pain that followed such brief moments of bliss. She had responsibilities. No time for such nonsense.

Alex. Her father. The boat. Obligations...

She closed her eyes against a rush of feeling. Willed the beating of her heart to slow. She opened her eyes to find his gaze still fixed on her. And imagined what it would be like to kiss Killian Jones. To be cared for by a man who seemed determined to undermine her previous notions of love and the Guard.

Addled by his nearness, Emma scrambled to a sitting position, scraping against the bark. Had she completely lost what was left of her mind? First Petty Officer Jones was, if nothing else, way out of her league when it came to matters of the heart.

He'd already admitted to a broken engagement. This thing between them—chemistry or boredom? A master tease and flirt, it was probably his way of whiling away a late-spring afternoon.

Emma cut her eyes at him, inordinately pleased to note a pulse continued to throb in his neck as he stared out over the strawberry fields.

He took a deep breath. "Putting up those walls of yours again, lass?" Killian searched her face for answers she couldn't give him. Answers she didn't know.

Emma drew her legs to her chin. She nuzzled her cheek against the frayed jean patches covering her knees.

He frowned. "Not sure what I need to do or say to get you to trust me. To show you how much I care about you." Killian scratched the back of his neck and swallowed hard. "Because I'm tired of being your friend."

She blinked. "What?"

Killian nodded. "You heard me. You may choose to live in the land of self-delusion, but I won't." He grabbed her hand and laid it over his heart.

Her fingers splayed against his chest, she gasped as his heart hammered a beat to match her own.

Killian's eyes blazed. "Feel my heartbeat, love. This is what happens every time I see you, much less get near you. And don't you dare lie to my face and tell me I don't have the same effect on you."

Her eyes widened, surprised by his use of the term of endearment.

 _Mermaid. Shore Girl. Love_.

Emma tried to tamp down how that word both excited and terrified her.

She huffed. "Arrogant much, Coastie?"

He held onto her hand like a lifeline.

"Is that what you're telling me, then? No effect? Be honest with yourself and me. Should I back off because I disgust you? Annoy you? Say the word and I'll find alternate housing and get out of your life."

"No." Panic knifed through Emma. "I—I don't want you to leave." She squeezed his hand. "You don't disgust me." She wove her fingers in his. "Although you are annoying."

Killian gave her a lopsided grin. "Thanks for the ringing endorsement, lass." His smile dimmed. "You don't want me to leave because you need the rent money? Or because of Alex? Because whatever there is or is not between you and I has nothing to do with your niece. Alex in my life is a nonnegotiable. I'm going to make a good Coastie out of her, remember?"

With a half laugh, she pillowed her face into her knees. "I don't want you to leave because of me," she whispered.

"Good."

Silence, except for the humming of the cicadas, thrummed between them.

"I want to explain about Zelena."

Her head snapped up. "You don't need... You already—"

"Zelena walked into my life when I was feeling especially alone." He reddened.

Emma shifted, unsure she wanted to hear this. Actually, quite sure she didn't want to hear this.

"Zelena and I were never a good fit. As a Coastie I was frequently absent when the cutter was out at sea. That's who I am. What I do. She said I loved the Guard and the sailboat more than her."

"Did you?"

Killian glanced away. "Aye, I did." His gaze darted to Emma. "Not exactly building trust in my potential as a suitor, am I, Emma?"

A suitor. The old-fashioned word found a home in Emma's heart.

His face fell. "There are things concerning Zelena I'm not proud of. She was right about me. I poured my wages into paying off my sailboat and none into her fantasy wedding plans. Either out too long on sea duty or when in port, too obsessed with my dream sailboat. Not really Zelena's fault she drifted to someone who'd be there for her 24/7."

Killian tore off a blade of grass and rolled it between his fingers. Strong hands, yet capable of great tenderness when dealing with Alex. Hands that reminded her of another Guardsman, Neal Cassidy.

She stilled the motion of his hand. "You're not the only person who's ever lived with regrets. I'm learning God is bigger than those if we entrust them to Him."

He probed her features. "Maybe my real problem with commitment has always been the riskiness of that sort of love. All consuming. After losing my parents and my brother, maybe that's why I've devoted myself to something safe like my boat and my career."

"An admitted control freak like me." She patted his cheek, enjoying the feel of his stubble against her palm. "Although what you do is hardly safe. The sea is never predictable."

"Neither is love. And much harder to control." Killian blew out a breath and gave her a shaky laugh. "Kind of like trusting God, too. But I'm working on it." He tweaked the tip of her nose. "So we've both got trust issues. Soul mates, huh?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far..."

His eyes glinted. "How far are you ready to go?"

She tilted her head, knowing he baited her. Just pushing buttons to see how she'd react. "Testing the water, Jones? How deep are you talking about?"

"Aboot." His lips quirked. "I love it when you go all Shore girl on me."

She sniffed and did her best British accent "Aye, I did." He chuckled and she playfully swatted his arm.

"I'll have you know we're a distinct cultural group and proud of it."

His smile was as bright as the sun. "I'm learning to love your distinct culture and this place more and more every day."

Love... That scary word again.

Emma's stomach knotted.

His eyes beckoned. "I've got another question for you."

"What did I get myself into?" Emma covered her face with her hands.

Elsa laughed and continued to decap the strawberries onto the newspaper spread out on the table of the screened porch. "Either tell me what happened this afternoon with Killian or get back to work." Elsa flicked a glance at the overflowing buckets of berries. "Did you two lose your minds when you picked all these berries?"

"Emma bit down on a ripened strawberry, then held the green cap aloft. "Decapitated enough for you?"

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Well, that's one way to do it. But I think you're going to be sick if you intend to work through the bucket that way."

Emma screwed her eyes shut and groaned. "I'm already sick. I can't believe I agreed."

Elsa leaned forward over the pile of hulls. "Agreed to what?"

Emma's eyes flew open. She gripped the paring knife and concentrated on slicing a berry. "Never mind."

Elsa gave Emma a wicked grin. "Don't hold back on my account. I want every juicy detail, Emma."

"I've lost my mind." Emma slumped. "He asked if I'd go with him to the Coastie auxiliary dance at the Yacht Club." She swallowed. "As his date."

Elsa screamed and raced around the table. She heaved Emma upward. Emma's chair fell back with a bang. Grabbing Emma around her torso, she bounced them both up and down.

"Emma. Emma. Emma..." Elsa squealed.

"El-El-Elsa." Emma's teeth rattled. Exhaling, Elsa relaxed her hold.

"This is going to be a disaster," Emma fumed. "What was I thinking? I'm more grilled cheese and onion rings at Granny's diner than trust-fund Yacht Club." She sagged in Elsa's arms. "I don't even own a dress."

Elsa thrust Emma to arm's length. Hand on her chin, Elsa gave Emma a studied appraisal. "Liner on the eyes. Color on the lips." Reaching behind Emma's head, Elsa tweaked her sister's ponytail. "Definitely needs work."

Emma jerked. "Watch it."

"Something floaty. Fun. Flirty. Cut above the knee—"

"Hey." Emma batted Elsa's hand. "This is a mistake of maritime proportions." She cocked her head. "You go with him instead."

"Killian asked you, not me." Elsa fluttered her eyelashes. "Although speaking of trust-fund types, if you're determined to leave Killian high and dry, I could always ask that snooty Regina Mills we went to high school with if she's available."

Emma stiffened. "I think not."

Elsa smirked. "That's right, Emma. Establish your territorial waters. He's your Prince. Nobody else's."

She corralled Emma around the waist again and rocked her. "Emma, Emma, Emma!"

Emma tugged free. "Don't go building fairy-tale schooners in the sky, sis." She held up her index finger. "I agreed to one date. One."

"That man is the picture in the dictionary beside honorable and handsome."

Emma's head flopped onto her shoulders. "But I'm no Cinderella. And you know what happens at midnight." She swallowed past the knot in her throat. "He'll never ask for another date. Not after I'm done humiliating myself and setting his career back a rating or two."

Ignoring her, Elsa beamed. "It'll be so romantic. Dancing under the stars, kisses in the moonlight—"

"Who's kissing you Aunt Mimi?"

The sisters turned and stared at Alex through the screen.

"Your Aunt Mimi has a date with Killian!"

Alex's blue eyes went wide and for a moment Emma's heart stopped. She hadn't intended for Alex to find out about her date with Killian this way and she wasn't sure how her niece would take it.

Suddenly the little girl let out an ear-piercing shriek of joy and jumped up and down clapping her hands.

"It's like Princess Buttercup and Wesley! True love!" She ran off crying out "True love! True love" over and over with Shadow and her pups howling and barking after her.

Emma put her hands over her face and sat down mumbling "Lord help me," into her palms

"Don't worry about a thing." Elsa waved her hand. "Trust me."

Which only added to the coiled knot in Emma's stomach.

"Remind me when this fancy shindig takes place?"

Emma deflated. "One week from today."

Elsa screamed. Emma bolted upright.

Elsa flung open the screen door. "Keep on hulling and cutting those berries, sis! I've got a lot of phone calls to make."

Emma headed out onto the open-channel waters at first light the next day, fearing her fingers were stained a permanent red after a long evening making freezer jam. With oceanside at the height of the flounder season, she spent the next few days running the boat in and out of the harbor and ferrying clients. Killian was on the watch list, and she was without a first mate again.

Which she'd done just fine without until he showed up in her life, she reminded herself for the hundredth time.

But a charter without Killian certainly made for a lonelier, less lively cruise. To make matters worse, Emma had hidden her sketch pad from herself. Running late as usual, despite a quick, frantic search, she'd finally given up the quest as lost for now.

What really annoyed her, however, was seeing Killian tying off _The Trouble with Redheads_ at the Nolan dock when she returned at sunset. This time, Alex waved at her from the deck of the vessel. On Sunday it had been Elsa. On Saturday, her dad.

Everyone had been out on Killian's sleek sailboat but her.

Knowing only one speed—full speed ahead—Alex charged toward the house, probably in search of dinner. Emma's heart felt empty and strangely neglected. Especially after all the time she and Killian had spent together last week. Despite his declarations about exploring their relationship further, he'd kept busy—avoiding her? Doubt twisted Emma's insides. Back to his true loves—the Guard and his boat? Emma was starting to feel a great deal of kinship with the fickle-hearted Zelena.

Therefore with no small measure of annoyance, she disdained Killian's belated attempts at neighborliness and secured the mooring lines to the cleat on the dock by herself.

He grinned at her. "Catch anything today?"

She scowled. "Some."

Reaching over the side of the boat, Emma off-loaded the now empty bait buckets. Killian relieved her of the buckets and set them down beside him on the dock. "Going to ask me about my day?"

She raised her lip. "Looks as if your day went well if you had time for a sail."

He chuckled, ignoring her waspish tone. "Aye. Finally getting around to exploring the inner passage. Don't know I want to venture out there in the dark, though. Too many hazards like sandbars and jetties. Lots of changeable inlets."

Killian offered his hand to hoist her onto the dock. "Like some women I know, with their ever-changing moods."

She glared at him. "Did you call me moody?" She scorned his outstretched hand.

"If the Wellington fits."

She stamped said Wellington, which lost some of her intended effect by making a squelching sound on the deck boards.

"How about I help get your boat shipshape and tidy before tomorrow's charter?"

She gave him a snarky look. "How about you mind your own business and tend to your own boat?" Seizing the stanchion, she positioned one foot on the seat and placed the other on the rail.

A smile flickered across his face. "Why, Emma. I've missed you too this week."

In a sudden move, he plucked her around the waist and hauled her over the gap and onto the pier. Colliding with his chest, she made a sound not unlike the squawking of an angry seagull. He tightened his arms around her to prevent her from spEric backward into the Machipongo drink.

"I ought to deck you, Jones..."

That infuriating, know-it-all grin. "Is that what you've really been wanting to do to me all week, Emma?"

Telltale heat flushed from beneath Emma's T-shirt up her neck. That was the real trouble with being a redhead, she rued, not for the first time. Every thought shone crimson on her face, neck, chest and arms.

And a week without her sketch pad left way too much time on her hands to daydream...of him.

He laughed and pressed her closer.

Emma's lips twisted. She hated being so easy to read. "I smell like fish."

His face alight, Killian touched her dangling sea-glass earring and set it in motion. "You smell like the wind, salt and the sea." He inhaled. "My favorite smells in the world."

Emma stilled.

Placing her palms against the blue cotton fabric of his shirt, she felt his heart stutter-step. Emma wound her arms around his neck. Killian lowered his mouth as she tilted her head. Her insides fluttered like a kite in a sea wind. Then their lips touched.

"Emma!"

She jerked. Killian dropped his cheek against her neck and ground his teeth.

"Emma!"

"Thanks a lot, Elsa," he growled.

Elsa sprinted down the path toward them. And with a surge of fear and guilt, Emma's next thought centered on Alex. Before she could move, Elsa's words sailed on the wind.

"The phone. Doctor. Lab results. Alex."

Her heart plummeted to her toes. She gaped at Killian. "What if—"

Mr. Always Ready broke the paralysis on her heart. "Go, Emma. Run. Trust, not fear."

She grabbed his hand. "Come on, then." And she dashed toward the house and the news that would—good or bad—change her life forever.

Perhaps Emma allowing Killian to be an integral part of the life-and-death drama playing out in the Nolan family was the single most complimentary—and humbling—gift of his life.

"Where's Alex?" Killian whispered to Elsa as they huddled in the doorway of the kitchen. Emma crept to the landline phone like a soldier cEric out of a trench toward gunfire.

"She and Dad went to Be-Lo on a bread run for dinner."

Killian nodded. "Probably a good thing."

Emma stretched a shaky hand toward the phone lying on the counter where Elsa had flung it. Her eyes darted to his. "Pray," she mouthed.

He swallowed past the boulder lodged in his throat. "I have been and continue to do so."

Something sweet welled in her eyes just for him. Then Emma took a deep breath and snatched the phone. "Emma Nolan speaking."

Elsa closed her eyes and folded her hands in prayer. Killian couldn't take his eyes off Emma, the bravest woman he'd ever known. Braver than any Guardsman in the face of the fiercest storm he'd ever seen.

Oh, God, I know it's been a long time since we were friends. But please...good news for Alex. For Emma.

"You're sure?"

He clenched his fists at his side, straining with the effort not to do something.

"Absolutely positive?" Her voice had gone flat. "There's no possibility of a mistake?"

He stopped breathing.

"Thank you, Dr. Clark," Emma rasped. "For everything you've done."

He made a move toward her. Clutching the phone still pressed against her ear, her eyes widened at him. He froze.

Silence stretched as taut as a bowline.

"Emma?" Elsa whispered in a little-girl voice.

Mute, Emma held the phone out to him. Hearing a dull dial tone, he switched off the phone. She staggered against the table.

Killian caught her in his arms. "It's going to be alright, love. Whatever the doctor said, we'll make it okay. I promise."

He heard his own voice as if from a distance in an overwhelming need to comfort and console. "Into the deep with Alex. Together. No matter what."

Emma shook her head. Her eyes focused out the window at the tidal creek. "Her blood count is normal. We've reached the two-year mark. Remission."

Elsa sank to her knees, laid her forehead on the floor and wailed.

Emma gripped his upper arms. "Cancer-free. Chances after this long of moving out of remission are slim." Emma shut her eyes. "She's not going to die. So much to be thankful for. So much to live for."

Killian held her close. "So many summers to enjoy, Emma."

She gazed into his eyes. "Sand dunes. Sunshine. Sea glass."

He nodded, his heart and soul full for the first time since he was a boy.

"Fourth of July picnic, here we come."

When David and Alex arrived home a few moments later, Alex appeared dazed at the news, caught totally off guard. Killian hoisted the little girl onto his shoulders. Emma's, Elsa's and David's arms enveloped each other. Killian declared a party was in order.

"My treat." He grinned. "Where should we go to celebrate the best news ever, Alex?"

Emma pivoted. "Killian, you don't—"

"Hush, lass." Killian softened his words to Emma with a smile. "This once."

She blushed. "Okay. The Wendy's or McDonald's in Onley?"

Killian lowered Alex to his feet. "Please, Emma. I think I can do better than fast food." He glanced from Elsa to David. "How aboot—" Killian flushed.

David chuckled and clapped Killian on the back. "We'll make a real Eastern Shoreman out of you yet, son."

Killian licked his lips to rephrase.

"How about—" Emma smirked "—The Island House?"

Alex tugged at his hand. "I want grilled cheese and onion rings at Granny's diner."

Killian's eyebrows arched. "Really?"

Emma laughed and knelt beside Alex. She planted a kiss on her forehead. "A girl after my own heart."

She threw a look Killian wasn't sure how to interpret in Elsa's direction.

His gaze ping-ponged between the sisters. "Okay..." He blew out a breath. "Granny's diner it is."

"Gotta get this little girl cleaned up first." Emma hustled Alex upstairs to change his shirt.

David stroked his mustache. "Guess a little spit and polish wouldn't do me any harm, either." He lumbered after his daughter and granddaughter

"Ah, Elsa..." Killian bit his lip.

Elsa halted on the verge of sailing out of the kitchen.

"I've been thinking about the Coastie dance thing."

Elsa crossed her arms and rocked on her heels. "What about it?"

"Your dad told me that money's tight right now." Killian drew a circle on the hardwood with the toe of his boat shoe. "But I wanted to make sure Emma wasn't stressing over having something to wear." Killian squared his shoulders. "I know better than to approach her with this, but I want to give you some money to make sure she buys exactly what she wan—"

Elsa threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking Killian off his feet.

"Killian Jones, you restore my faith in good men. Emma may not be ready to say it yet, but I absolutely adore you."

The breath whooshed out of him.

Elsa patted his cheek and started for the stairs.

"The money," he whispered, with a pointed glance at the ceiling.

Elsa smiled. "No worries, Coastie. I've got this under control. Emma Ruth Nolan's going to take the wind right out of your sails come Friday night."

Killian's heart jackhammered.

Because the truth was, Emma Ruth Nolan—aka Shore Girl—already took the wind right out of his sails.

"Is this really necessary, Elsa?"

Emma clutched the salon chair armrests.

Elsa made a piffling noise. "She won't need a tan, Belle. Got about as much of a tan as redheads ever get anyway."

Emma glared. "Hey."

"I'm thinking a French twist on the nape of her neck." Belle tugged at the band holding Emma's hair out of her face.

"Ouch."

Lily made a face. "After you repair the number the sun, salt and wind have done to her hair first."

Emma's brow furrowed. "I thought you were my friends."

Aurora patted her cheek. "We are your friends. That's why we've staged an intervention."

Emma scrunched her nose as fumes rose from the concoction Belle stirred in a bowl. She squirmed. "Seriously? You're not putting that in my hair, are you?"

Belle snorted. "This isn't for your hair, dearie. This is for your face."

Emma gasped and shrank back. The overhead bell jingled as Astrid hurried into the beauty salon. She held up a Peebles bag. "Raided the cosmetics counter."

Emma groaned. "You guys know trying to turn this ugly duckling into a swan is a lost cause, right?"

Elsa huffed. "Emma, stop being so negative. If you'd relax and make up your mind to enjoy the process..."

"Yeah." Lily skewered her with a look. "It's the journey, not the destination."

Jasmine nodded. "But when we get through with you, the destination is going to be fabulous, too."

Aurora rummaged through the cosmetics bag. "You won't recognize yourself."

Emma screwed her eyes shut. "That's what I'm afraid of. Although..." Her eyes flew open. "Making me look like a girl instead of a grungy fisherman can only be a positive from Killian's point of view."

Aurora lifted her chin. "Killian's point of view of you must be fine if he asked you to this dance."

Emma's stomach burned. "Probably a pity date for the old maid Nolan sister."

The ladies shook their heads at each other. "What'd I tell you? Hopeless." Elsa rolled her eyes. "This one's going to have to be pried kicking and screeching out of her trusty Wellingtons before we can get her into glass slippers, much less a tiara."

Emma recoiled. "I'm absolutely not wearing a tiara."

"Only a metaphor, sis." Elsa made an expansive gesture. "You see what I've been up against? This is exactly why I called in reinforcements. Speaking of which...?"

Everyone turned as the front door jingled again. Jasmine cruised in holding a dry-cleaning bag aloft. "Miss Joanna just finished the alterations."

Emma quivered with both fear and anticipation. Which summed up her feelings regarding this dance and Killian, too. Elsa had taken her measurements and gone shopping without her.

Elsa clapped her hands together. "Time for the big reveal."

With the plastic removed, Emma's breath caught.

"Oh, Elsa..."

"Do you like it?" Elsa chewed her lip. "If not, the New to Me shop will take it back even with the alterations. It's a brand-new designer dress. Tags still on it from the boutique on the strand in Chincoteague."

"And such a bargain secondhand." Lily and the rest of the ladies gathered around.

Jasmine adjusted a fold on the dress. "Some rich come-here woman probably decided to buy a new wardrobe for herself before ever wearing this one."

"It's beautiful." Emma fingered the filmy, flouncy hem. "Elsa, I don't know what to say."

Elsa sniffed. "Nothing to say. Except you're going to have the time of your life tomorrow night." She grimaced. "Despite yourself."

Emma sighed. "Good luck releasing this girl's inner Cinderella." She peered at her reflection in the mirror.

"But first things first." Emma rubbed her index finger over the bridge of her nose. "You got anything in that bag of tricks to cover a few freckles?"

Pirouetting in front of the full-length mirror, Emma's blue dress flared. Its filminess enveloped her body. The silky gathered hemline teased her kneecaps.

Fingering the soft spaghetti straps, she probed her reflection. "This looks nothing like the real me."

Elsa stepped back, to examine the finished product. "You look fabulous."

Emma sighed. "Exactly. Totally unlike the real me."

Elsa pinched Emma's upper arm. "Ow!" Emma wrenched free.

"Some mascara and eyeliner. A little blush. Lip gloss. The real you underneath the Wellingtons, tank top and jeans simply waiting to be released. Think of it as a salvage operation."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Speaking of Wellingtons?" She stuck out one foot clad in a ridiculously high heel. "I'm going to break my neck trying to navigate the Yacht Club in these."

Elsa tucked a runaway tendril behind Emma's ear. "I told you to practice the stairs with them this week. To break them in."

"I've been kind of busy."

Elsa sniffed. "Busy trying to avoid Killian and put off the inevitable."

Emma wobbled her head, feeling the weight of her locks pinned and sprayed into a neat bun on the top of her head. She missed her ponytail. "He's been avoiding me. Not the other way around."

Killian had zoomed in and out of the property all day. Emma knew this because she'd kept a surreptitious watch on the cabin, his truck and his activity.

She wandered to the window in the third-floor attic Elsa had refurbished

and claimed as her own. "He loaded the boat onto the trailer and hitched it to his truck. I haven't seen him since." Emma wheeled. "Maybe he finally realized what a disaster this so-called date would be and abandoned ship. And me."

Elsa shook her head. "Killian isn't like that. And wipe that hopeful look off your face at the unlikely prospect he's deserted you. Like it or not, this is happening."

Emma moaned.

Elsa gestured from the window to the bed. "So practice walking, sis. Move."

Emma stomped toward her. Elsa gave her a look not unlike one she'd received from their mother once when she'd put worms in Anna's lunchbox. The dress flounced, swaying behind her in a magnificent wake. Emma stopped to admire the effect and teetered.

Elsa steadied her. "Careful. Take it slow till you get used to the heels."

"The heels are the least of my worries." Emma rotated her head on her shoulders, trying to iron out the kinks. "Who needs a facelift with a bun this tight? My head aches. I'm not sure I'm capable of blinking at this point."

She touched the nape of her neck and winced.

"Ever hear 'beauty is painful'? Well, it's true. Get used to it." Elsa swatted her hand. "Quit fiddling with it. You're going to mess it up."

Emma snorted. "Beauty and Emma Ruth Nolan? A lost cause."

Elsa's lips curved. "Not such a lost cause. I've seen the way Killian looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."

Emma's heart fluttered. "He watches me? I find that hard to believe."

Elsa tapped Emma's silver lapis sea horse earring. "Seriously? Are you going to pretend that everyone doesn't see the yearning looks and doe-y eyes?"

"I don't yearn."

"Well, maybe. But he does."

Elsa grasped Emma's elbow and lugged her toward the window seat. " I want you to allow yourself the possibility of something more. You deserve so much more."

Emma sank onto the cushion and knotted her fingers in her lap. "I'm scared, Elsa. I'm not like you or—"

Elsa, none too gently, yanked Emma's hands apart. "Stop comparing yourself to me or Ashley or anybody else." She cupped Emma's cheek. "You were my lifeline when Mom died. Ashley's lifeline when she lay dying. Alex's beloved Mimi when she got sick. Dad's anchor when his world washed away."

Tears trembled on the edges of Elsa's lashes. "I love you. But this is your time, Emma. Just for you. Don't let fear rob you of the joy God has for your life. Don't live in fear. Just…let it go."

Emma nodded, unable to trust herself to speak.

Elsa brushed the moisture from underneath Emma's eyes. "Don't cry. It'll ruin your mascara. And a redhead without mascara is—"

"A redhead without any eyes." Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. She took a deep breath. "Okay. But I absolutely can't live with this tight do, Elsa. Something's got to give." With a flick of her wrist, Emma reached behind her head and pulled out the pins. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders.

Elsa frowned. "Emma—"

"Girls!" David bellowed from downstairs.

Emma cut her eyes at the alarm clock on Elsa's nightstand. "Oh, no."

Elsa rubbed her hands together. "Showtime. He's here."

Emma shrank into the alcove, pressing her bare back against the cool pane of the glass. "I can't. I'm not ready."

Elsa flung open the door to the stairs. "Get going, Nolan. Move it."

Emma glared at her sister. Elsa drummed her fingers on her crossed arms. Emma rose, chin tucked to her chest, and started her death march to the door.

"Oh, for the love of frozen fish sticks..." Elsa seized her arm and shoved Emma onto the landing.

Catching hold of the banister, Emma trained her eyes on descending each step. Overwhelming panic crushed her heart. She whirled to find Elsa one step behind, blocking her only means of escape.

Elsa pointed toward the second-story landing. "Go," she whispered.

On the landing, yet undetected, Emma stalled. Her father and Alex waited in the foyer below. Then Killian, in full dress blues, stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Her throat constricted.

 _Wow_. No surprise he cleaned up well. She rested her hand over her palpitating heart. Suppose he didn't like her dress? Or her hair? Suppose he didn't like her as much as she liked him?

But her foot lowered to the next step of its own volition. As the stair creaked, Killian's head snapped up. Her gaze locked onto his. Her heart lifted as his eyes warmed with appreciation.

Shivers skittered all the way down to Emma's pink toenails.

Then she stumbled.

Killian's heart stopped when Emma emerged on the staircase. His mouth went dry as her hair—for once free of her tomboy ponytail—swung free around her slim shoulders.

A funny little fear lanced his defenses.

So elegant. So unlike the Emma who haunted his dreams with her cheeky grin, feisty Shore girl chip on her shoulder, who breathed sea, salt and wind.

Then she tottered. Her arms flailed. Killian's eyes widened.

Emma made a grab for the banister. Elsa reached for her sister. He and David rushed forward.

But she caught herself. And grinned, embarrassed. Heat flooded her cheeks. And his mind eased. Underneath the glam, still his endearing Shore girl.

Killian offered his hand. With a grateful smile, she entwined her hand into his. Killian found himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

"Aunt Mimi." Alex's eyes shone. "You look beautiful."

David kissed Emma's cheek. "Yes, she does. All gussied up."

"Thank you, Dad." She gave them a tremulous smile. "And thank you, too, Alex."

Suddenly, eAlex launched herself at Emma's knees. She wrapped her arms around the little girl and plopped a kiss on top of her head. "Careful, Alex. I'm on stilts, and once I fall, I won't be able to get up."

She lifted her chin and snickered. "Like a beetle on its back?"

She arched her eyebrow. "Thanks, Alex."

Elsa joined them. "Alex, let go of Mimi. You're wrinkling her dress." She clasped Alex's arm.

"No." Alex shook off Elsa. "Don't leave me, Mimi." Burying her face in the folds of Emma's dress, she clung tighter to her legs. "Where are you going, Mimi?"

Over her head, Emma exchanged puzzled looks with Killian.

Killian crouched at Alex's level. "You know where she's going, Alex. I told you. Remember how you helped me get everything ready?"

Emma's forehead creased. "Get what ready?"

"It's a secret, lass." Alex's voice deepened in an imitation, Killian recognized with a grin, of his own.

Emma frowned. "Alex, I don't like—"

"You're going to bring her back, though." Alex's voice lost some of its assurance. "Right, Killian?" She nestled her cheek against the silky fabric.

Killian laid his hand on Alex's shoulder. "Of course, Alex. I promise. She's your Mimi forever. I'm only borrowing her tonight."

Emma's hand drifted downward and covered Killian's hand on Alex's shoulder. "I'll be here when you wake up tomorrow, Alex. Like always. Okay?"

"Okay... I love you, Mimi." Alex sniffed her dress. "You smell good."

"Yes, she does." Killian cleared his throat. "Like key lime pie. My favorite."

Emma's eyes darted to Killian's. A soft blush sculpted her cheeks as she bent once more over Alex. She cradled her too-small body. "I love you, too, Alexandra. You be a good girl and let Granddad and Aunt Elsie put you to bed. No staying up late with Shadow."

Elsa folded her arms. "No smuggling puppies into your bed, either."

"Aw..." Alex scuffed the floor with her sneaker. "Please, Mimi. Just one?" She pursed her lips and raised her shoulder. "So I won't be lonely while you're on your playdate?"

She rounded her eyes at Killian. "Playdate?"

Killian grinned.

"Yeah." Alex gave her legs one final squeeze. "Killian said like when I go over to Grace's house."

Emma cocked her head at Killian. "We're going on a playdate like Grace and Alex, Petty Officer Jones?"

David and Elsa laughed. It was Killian's turn to redden. "Well...maybe not an exact analogy in our case." He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

An interesting expression flitted across Emma's features. She gave Alex a fierce kiss on the cheek before tickling her tummy. Giggling, Alex let go and backed out of her reach.

"One puppy only in the bed." She held up her index finger. "One and no more."

Alex nodded. "Coastie's honor."

Emma sighed. "Why doesn't that reassure me?"

David snorted. "You two go have fun. It's above time Alex and I teach Elsa how to fill the bait bucket."

Elsa groaned.

Emma cut her eyes at Killian. "Time to fish or cut bait, huh?"

Pleasurable swirls of anticipation filled his belly. He extended his arm. "Shall we?"

Emma saluted him. "Aye, aye, Coastie. Whatever you say."

He gave her a sidelong look. "I reserve the right to remind you later you said that."

Emma threaded her arm through the crook of his elbow. "Well, then...let the playdate begin."

The setting sun cast a luminous glow over the Chesapeake Bay. And the Yacht Club blazed with hundreds of dazzling lights. Shimmering across the water, lanterns lined the pier behind the spEric brick edifice. Festooned with twinkling lights, a flotilla of recreational motorboats and sailboats anchored inside the half-moon–shaped cove.

Sitting in Killian's truck in the Yacht Club parking lot, Emma put her hand over her heart, unable to believe her hardworking, no-fuss Shore world had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. Which further served to remind her that she didn't belong here.

Killian angled in the seat. "Wow."

She swallowed. "Spectacular, isn't it?"

"And the Club doesn't look too bad, either."

She lowered her eyes to her open-toed heels. "I'm sorry about Alex earlier. I'm not sure what got into her. She's usually not so clingy. In fact, she's the child who pushes me away when I drop her off at Sunday school or kindergarten. Out of sight, out of mind."

"With you, Emma, it's never a case of out of sight, out of mind. Not with me. The fact is, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since a certain harpoon incident. The little lass feels the momentousness of the occasion."

Emma looked away, transfixed by the rapidly filling parking lot. "It's one night."

"It's as much as you want it to be, Emma."

She bit her lip. "I'm not sure I can afford to believe in more, Killian. Not sure I can risk—"

"Trust me, Emma." He edged across the seat. She quieted as an aroma of sandalwood floated across the truck cab. "Look at me, Emma."

She faced him and drank in the alluring scent of him. Killian pushed back a strand of her hair with his fingers. His lips parted in a sigh.

Emma's heart raced. Breathe...

Killian's sparkling eyes pinned her. "You are beautiful. And strong. And fierce. And—"

Her throat caught. Must remember to breathe...

A burst of laughter from another pair of partygoers headed into the club broke the moment.

He raked a hand through his hair and heaved a deep breath. "What happened to your freckles, Shore Girl?"

She tossed her hair. "I thought you despised freckles."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Not on you I don't. But never fear—" he gestured toward the clubhouse "—a Coastie is nothing if not prepared for every contingency. I've got a plan."

And before Emma could fathom that mysterious announcement, he planted a quick kiss on her lips. "Strawberry. My favorite."

Her pulse skyrocketing, she gave him a sidelong look. "So you keep telling me." Emma clutched the beaded purse Elsa had insisted she carry. "What sort of plan? What have you and Alex cooked up?"

"Stay right there." He gathered his headgear off the console and thrust his door open. Killian positioned the hat and adjusted the brim. Striding around the truck, he threw open the passenger door and offered Emma his arm. "Have a little faith, Emma."

She swung her feet to the ground and stepped out. He gave her a boyish grin as she twined her arm through his. He pressed her closer, the muscles strong and solid beneath her hand."

"Time to seize the day." He flicked a glance toward the anchored boats. "Or the evening." Killian squeezed her hand. "Relax. You're going to have fun, I promise."

As he led her toward the throng gathered inside, Emma prayed she wouldn't fall flat on her face and embarrass him.

Killian held her arm in a tight grip as if he feared she'd give in to her instincts and make a run for it. Checking his hat at the door, he introduced her to several Guardsmen stationed at nearby Station Cape Charles whom he'd met while stationed long ago in Kodiak.

She managed to laugh in all the right places as the men shared glimpses of a younger Killian Jones, brasher, less cocksure. And as they recalled his outrageous off duty exploits.

Killian snagged two glasses of sparkling water off a passing waiter's tray. "Don't believe everything these Coasties tell you."

She batted her lashes at him. "I learned a long time ago I'd better not believe half of what a Coastie says." Killian grimaced. "Although in your case..." She took her glass from him. "I'll bet they didn't tell the half of it."

The men laughed.

"Should have known better than to let you chat with my so-called mates." Killian took her arm as the orchestra tuned. "I'm getting you away from here before they totally ruin my reputation."

The executive petty officer at Station Cape Charles grinned. "What reputation?"

"Ruin it with the truth, Jones?" Chief Locksley and his wife, Marion, joined them.

Killian's shoulders slumped. "You're killing me here."

Emma set down her glass and laughed. "The truth hurts."

He drew her toward the parquet dance floor. "Let's dance." She waggled her fingers goodbye at the men and the Locksleys. The orchestra began a waltz.

"Will you allow me to lead, Nolan? Or am I going to have to fight you for the privilege of letting my friends see the prettiest girl in the room in my arms?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were Irish, spouting all sorts of blarney." She gave him a flirtatious look. "But I've got to warn you, I've never had much opportunity to dance."

"It's called a waltz and there's only one rule..." He joined their hands and placed Emma's other hand on his shoulder before placing his other hand at her waist. "Pick a partner who knows what he is doing." Their faces were so close if she leaned in she could kiss him. Killian gave her a heart-melting smile. "Think you can handle that?"

"I can follow anywhere you lead."

Killian tightened his hold. "I'm not going to let you forget you said that."

She ran her gaze over the angular line of his jaw. "Of that, I'm sure."

After a few spins around the room, the tune changed to a faster cha-cha tempo. She tensed and Killian released her. "Let's get something to eat before our next adventure."

"What next adventure?"

Again he smiled that Cheshire cat smile, which reminded her of Alex. "Every day is an adventure since I met you, Emma Nolan." He tweaked her nose. "The night is young and further opportunities beckon. But first things first." He patted his stomach.

"Dare I ask what opportunities beckon tonight?"

He pried a glass plate off the buffet table and handed it to her. "Wait and be surprised."

She frowned. "I'm not real big on surprises, Jones."

"You'll enjoy this surprise, trust me."

Thing was, she did trust Killian. Despite past experience, despite what her common sense told her to be true. With their plates laden with lobster tails and softshell blue Chesapeake crab, they wended their way toward the glass-banked dining room overlooking the bay. Tables of eight topped with sea-green tablecloths and candlelight lent a flattering old-fashioned glow to the room. Conch shells and driftwood rounded out the centerpieces.

Chief Locksley waved them over. They settled beside him and his wife plus an assortment of retired Coasties, auxiliary volunteers and blue-blazered yacht patrons. After more introductions, the conversation shifted to speculation over the next Wallops Island space launch. Followed by a spirited debate over each man's golf handicap. And from there to the ladies' favorite five-star resorts around the world.

"Kinda out of my league—" Emma leaned over for Killian's ears only "—this bayside crowd. We oceanside folk work for a living."

His lips quirked. "Me, too. I grew up on a fishing boat, remember? But I've been out of my depth with you, Shore Girl, since we met."

She blushed to the roots of her hair. "Killian..."

Killian grinned, no trace of remorse. "Tonight, Emma, I feel like the luckiest man on earth."

Emma, for tonight at least, felt as if she really was a princess. And Killian Jones—a Coastie, of all things—truly was her Prince.

"Keep your eyes closed. Trust me. I won't let you fall."

Emma clung to his hand but kept her eyes squeezed shut. "Fall? Is that water I hear?"

"Open your eyes, Emma."

Her eyes flew open. "Your sailboat."

Killian stepped over the gap between the boat and the Yacht Club pier to reach for her.

The corners of her mouth curved. "Is this your surprise?"

"Aye."

She took his hand, her slim, strong fingers cool against his. "You trailered your boat bayside at the Club?"

"Aye."

"Is that all you can say for yourself?" Emma wobbled, trying to regain her balance in those ridiculous shoes."

"Here. Let me help." Killian swept her into his arms. She gasped but wound her arms tighter around his neck as he lifted her into the boat.

"Not the best shoes for a moonlight cruise, but Alex and I prepared for the situation."

"A moonlight cruise?"

She felt good in his arms. Right. A sweet-scented breeze blew a strand of her hair across his face. His breath hitched.

"You can put me down now."

Light from the Yacht Club spilled across the water and illuminated her face.

"Aye." He grinned. "I could. Don't want to, though."

Snatches of music and laughter floated into the night. They contemplated each other. These were uncharted emotional waters for him. If she only knew what being close to her did to his heart. He'd spent the past week searching his heart, praying on what he should do. Pondering what he could say to erode the last of the barriers with which she'd kept him at arm's length since they'd met. His feelings went beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. And he wanted to show Emma how much he respected, cherished and valued her.

Prayer—what a concept. Might have prevented him from making so many disastrous relationship choices since his brother died. But not this time, he promised himself. Not with someone as important to his life as Emma.

With reluctance, he relinquished his hold upon her and helped her regain her footing on the deck. "And about those USCG regulations you love so much..."

He waited a heartbeat's space of time, anticipating her eye roll. And she

didn't disappoint him. He grinned. "I'm adding one of my own while you're aboard this sailing vessel. Stay here."

Killian hurried below deck to retrieve the duffel bag he'd stashed this afternoon. Returning, as his head topped the stairs, Killian smiled at the sight of her puzzled face. Seated and waiting, as he'd instructed, where he left her.

Would wonders never cease.

Regaining the deck, he dropped to his knees at her feet. Her eyes rounded. "What are you doing?"

Killian withdrew a pair of boat shoes from the bag. Her eyebrows rose. "Are those mine? Where did you—"

"Alex." Killian placed her foot on his knee.

She tucked the pleats of her dress around her body. "I can do it, Killian. No need for you—" He ignored her and unstrapped the buckle. "Really. Let me—"

He eased her foot out of the high-heeled shoe. "No, let me do the honors, please." She tensed. He studied her. "Trust me, Emma. Trust yourself."

She shivered, but she didn't break eye contact. "I do trust you, Killian. I'm not sure I should, but I do."

Emma allowed him to guide her foot into the boat shoe. He lowered her foot and held out his hand, waiting.

His heart thudded.

She raised her other foot and placed it into his open palm. "Good thing Elsa convinced me to paint my toenails. Or this might make me nervous."

He laughed, as she'd probably meant him to, breaking the tension of the moment. He fumbled with the strap. Finally he slipped her bare foot into the other shoe, eager to get this sail underway.

"There you go." He helped Emma stand. "And because the wind across the water can get chilly when the sun goes down, Alex thought you might also need this." He plucked a lacy shawl from the confines of the bag.

"Alex thought, huh?"

Killian shrugged. "I suggested. Elsa caught Alex going through your dresser drawers. She loaned you this for tonight." He draped the shawl around her shoulders.

She brushed her cheek against its woven softness. "Got the whole family in on it, didn't you?"

Killian fanned her hair out from the confines of the shawl till it tumbled free, falling down her back. "I love your hair." He curled one strand around his index finger.

"Oh, really?" She gestured toward the bow of the boat. "What about _The Trouble with Redheads_?"

Killian unwound the runaway curl from his finger. Slowly. "From where I'm standing, the only trouble with redheads is that they are so lovable."

"Humph."

But he could tell from her heightened color he'd pleased her. "But you distract me. Permission to cast off, Captain Nolan?"

"By all means, Coxswain. Wouldn't want to hold up the adventure."

Grasping her hand, he led her to a safe spot, out of the way of the boom and close to the wheel. "We're in luck. It's a perfect night for a sail. Just enough wind. Not too choppy. No fog."

Removing the fenders from the side of the boat, Killian brought the engine to life, edged from the slip and maintained a low speed. "The _Trouble with Redheads_ is fully rigged and ready to sail."

"Kind of sounds like a Coastie, no?"

Killian grinned before turning his attention to a careful scrutiny of the running lights of the other boats docked at the marina. Dodging the other recreational vessels, he chugged farther from shore. "We won't go far tonight," he shouted over the noise of the motor.

He gradually accelerated as he cleared several yachts at anchor in the harbor. Once clear, he cut the engine and hoisted the sail. Downward of the wind, he let the sails all out and allowed the boat to run toward the neck of the channel.

Still in sight of the Club harbor on the other side of the cove, he sheltered the boat in the lee of the wind. Protected by the land from the force of the waves and wind. The moon reflected a path of silver across the tides lapping at the darkened shore.

"You really love this boat. And I can see why." Emma gazed out over the water. "It's a lovely spot, if it is bayside." She injected a teasing lilt to her voice.

"Oceanside." He arched a look over the wheel. "Like its inhabitants, it is too unpredictable, especially at night."

"You went to a lot of trouble for me."

"Come here." He held out his hand. "For you, nothing is too much trouble."

He escorted her to the bow, where he'd stowed several cushions. "Let's see if we can spot the Milky Way."

She eased down beside him, resting against the wall of the cabin. "May be too much moonlight to see the stars."

"I see stars every time I'm around you, Emma."

Averting her eyes, she fingered the lace on the shawl. "You're very sweet. Gallant in an old-fashioned way. And very good for my ego."

He lifted her chin with his forefinger. "I wish you would see yourself the way I see you. Brave to a fault. Heroic. Courag—"

"I'm not brave or courageous." She shook her head. "I'm definitely not heroic."

"After giving up your dreams for Alex and your dad and..." He took a breath. "Losing Neal Cassidy."

"How do you— Let me guess." Her lips flattened. "Alex." Emma wrapped the ends of the shawl closer around her body. "You don't understand how it was."

Jealousy over a dead man knifed through Killian. Her devotion and loyalty superseded death. A love and devotion Killian had never received from any woman. A devotion, Killian was honest enough to admit, he'd never deserved.

Till now? Was there room in Emma's heart for one more Coastie? For him?

"I'd like to understand, Emma." He held his breath and prayed. For them both.

She lifted her face to the moon and closed her eyes. And just when he feared he'd lost her, she whispered, "We knew each other forever. You

never think anything will happen to someone who's twenty-six years old. So full of life. So sweet. So..."

At the catch in her voice, Killian yearned to touch her hand, to hold her, to keep her somehow tethered to him. And at the same time to sever this cord that bound her in the past. But as she shrank into herself and into her memories, he dared do neither.

"Elsa would say we were BFFs. Since we were little kids. I was always more comfortable playing baseball with the guys than playing dolls with the girls." She laughed, a sound without mirth. "Some things never change."

"Some things don't have to change, Emma." Killian clenched his fist. "You don't have to be Ashley or Elsa or Anna. Emma Ruth Nolan does just fine being herself in my book."

Emma darted a glance at him. "Emma Ruth Nolan is a coward, Killian."

He made a motion of protest.

"It's true. You want to know the real reason I never left the Shore? The real reason I turned down the scholarship and lost my chance to develop my art?"

"You could never be a coward. After you stood by your dad and Ashley and—"

"Alex is brave. Ashley was brave. The real reason I gave up the scholarship wasn't because Dad needed me when Mom died. The real reason I stay here, the real reason I took on Dad and Elsa and Ashley and Alex, is that I'm selfish."

He frowned. "Selfish? You don't have a selfish—"

"You pegged me the first time you laid eyes on me, Killian. Fear. I was too scared to leave behind everything I'd ever known and loved to go to Savannah. Scared I'd never fit in. Scared of being lonely. Scared to leave my comfortable, safe Eastern Shore cradle. Every decision I've ever made has been based on fear. I'm scared to death."

She snorted. "I'm scared of life. I'm scared of failing, so I don't try. And therefore I automatically fail, because I'm too afraid to try."

Killian seized her hand. "You're too hard on yourself. None of this is true. Not really."

Her face constricted. "He loved me, Killian. Neal loved me. The only one who has ever loved me that way. Who will ever—"

"No, that's not true, either. He's not the only one who will ever love you."

Startled, she blinked. "You don't know how I hurt him. Why I deserve to be alone."

Emma took a deep breath, and continued.

"When he enlisted, he promised as soon as he received his first assignment, he'd send for me and we'd be married. I let him go off to boot camp knowing I had everything I'd ever need right here and that I'd never go off-Shore. Not even for him. Like you with your boat and Zelena, I didn't love him enough. Not enough to go with him. And when he sent for me to come to Oregon, I refused."

Her mouth pulled downward. "I couldn't do it. I can't breathe when I'm not here. When I'm not out on the water. But I broke his heart, and two weeks later he died on a rescue mission."

"Emma, I—"

"Don't say anything to me." She scrambled to her feet. "'Cause I'll only end up hurting you. Maybe endangering your life, too."

He rose and grasped her arms. "I'm willing to take the chance, Emma. I'm a survivor. Don't let this devilishly handsome exterior fool you."

She slumped against his chest and choked back a half-sobbing laugh. "That ego of yours, Coastie, could charm fish out of the water."

"Only one fisher-girl I'm interested in charming." He brought her hand to his lips. "Would you give me a chance to prove you wrong? Would you give us a chance? Yourself a chance for happiness?"

She shuddered with sobs held too long inside. "Baby steps?" she whispered.

"I'm not in a hurry. And I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that now."

"Emma, love, look at me."

She raised her eyes to his. The pain in her face, the fear, the uncertainty stabbed at his chest. "Believe me. Faith, not fear. Trust in us."

Her lips trembled. Moisture quivered on her lashes. She shifted her gaze toward the stars, where pinpricks of light dotted the blue velvet curtain of the celestial sky.

Killian peered at the remaining sliver of the moon. "The moon's gone behind a cloud."

Emma stirred. "Enough for a kiss in the moonlight, though."

Killian angled. His heart pounded at her expression.

True to form, she never failed to astonish him. On her tiptoes, she cupped both sides of his face. His hands encircled her waist. Her mouth found his lips and something pure and sweet quickened his heartbeat. Something deep in his soul recognized and responded to this love for which he'd aimlessly searched and not found—until now.

Until this moment in the moonlight. Anchored in a safe harbor on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.

Not in the bright lights of Miami. Nor the adrenaline-pounding action of a cutter off Kodiak. But here with this woman. With this beautiful Shore girl, he'd found what he'd longed for without even realizing it his whole life.

And Killian knew that he loved her. Loved her enough to sacrifice everything he'd mistakenly given his heart to before. Loved her enough to do what it took to make sure there were more moments like this in the moonlight. More hours in her presence. More summer days. Winter, autumn and spring, too—building a life of sand dunes, sunshine and sea glass.

Bending to her height, he relished the feel of her soft lips on his. And she returned his affection.

When they pulled apart, they stared at each other. In her half-lidded gaze, he saw the hope in her eyes fighting valiantly against the fear.

And for once, winning.

Patience, he reminded himself. Slow and steady would win her heart. God, don't let me mess this up, please. Not this time. Not with her.

Where would Emma want to go from here?

She clung to the sleeves of his jacket as if she might fall without his strength. He tightened his hold and steadied her. He waited for her to say something. Anything. Waited for her to pull back and run away again.

He tried to steel his heart for Emma's standard one step forward, two steps back routine. Tried and failed as he waited for her to lower the boom on his foolish hopes and dreams.

"Well..." She blew out a breath.

He swallowed. "That's all—" His voice was husky. "That's all you got to say?"

Killian felt her smile. She lifted her face to his. His heart hitched as her lips brushed over his cheek.

"Will this sailboat turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" She laughed. "Or have we time for one more kiss before you take Cinderella home?"

He captured her face in his hands. "There's always time for you," he whispered.

The next week was like a barely remembered dream for Emma. Full of exquisite moments of joy. Full of laughter and further adventures crabbing with Alex in the tidal marsh.

Full of happiness as she shared her favorite barrier island spots by the light of the moon with this Coastie who'd managed to steal her heart. Though it wasn't even Memorial Day yet, she, Killian and Alex made plans to return and celebrate the Fourth of July in a big way, Eastern Shore–style.

She thrilled to after-dinner evenings on the screened porch with Killian watching the herons and gulls. Endured the satisfied glances between her father and Elsa. The knowing smiles of her friends and neighbors around the village. Emma overflowed with a happiness she'd believed forever out of her reach.

For the hinges of her rusty heart were swinging wide and giving way to Killian's inexorable charm. She loved the way his eyes lit when she entered a room.

And that scared Emma almost witless at how essential he'd become to her well-being.

Daily reminders of past failures led to twinges of doubt. Doubts about the foolishness of trusting her heart, trusting a Coastie and the prospect of an uncertain future. But she prayed. Oh, how she prayed.

Could she love him enough to leave the safe harbor of Storybrooke and entrust her heart into Killian's hands when and if the time came to make a choice?

Even contemplating such an outcome scared Emma all the more. Because this time, her heart was telling Emma maybe...

Maybe yes.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Killian?"

Killian settled into the scrolled-iron chair outside the Corner Bakery in Onancock. "I'm sure."

His brother's friend, Master Chief John Silver, propped his elbows on the table between them. "I know how much you love that boat."

Killian lifted one shoulder and let it drop. "Not as much as I love Emma Nolan."

Silver shook his head. "This place has changed you. I can hardly believe this is the same Killian Jones who poured his heart and soul, not to mention every paycheck, into _The Trouble with Redheads._ "

Killian smiled. "The trouble with this particular Eastern Shore redhead is that she's taken my heart. God's taken my soul. And there's no going back with either."

Silver reached across the table and gripped Killian's hand. "You have no idea how delighted I am to hear about your rediscovered faith. Your brother ..." He cleared his throat. "Everything I hoped you'd find here in this community, just as I did some thirty-odd years ago."

Killian cocked his head. "You? Here?"

Silver released Killian's hand and sat back. "Station Storybrooke was my first duty station. Taught this salty old dog some new tricks. I'd hoped you'd find faith and a new beginning to your life here, as well." He chuckled. "Didn't count on a redhead in the picture, too."

Killian gestured down Main Street past the galleries, bank and shops. "You taken a good look at this place lately? Can't throw a rock and not hit one." His lips quirked. "I never stood a chance, and you know it."

Another reason he'd chosen the bakery in Onancock and not the diner in Storybrooke to conduct this delicate bit of business.

"You sure you want to sell your boat to my nephew?"

"Aye. I'm sure. He offered me a fair price the last time I bunked at your place for your sixtieth birthday bash. Emma's overwhelmed with medical bills for Alex. The Nolans are going to lose their boat. The boat is their livelihood. She works too hard as it is. No time for anything for herself. She needs breathing room. Time for her art. This money will give her a new start, a way to begin again."

The master chief studied him. "Have I told you how proud I am of the man you've become? The man I always knew you had hidden away inside. The man your brother would be so proud of."

Killian dropped his eyes to the pavement. "You may not be so thrilled when I tell you the rest of my news."

Silver held up his hand. "Before you make any ill-advised declarations, let me hasten to remind you about the exam for warrant officer rating."

Killian started to shake his head.

"With your unique skill set and experience, it wouldn't be long till you advance. You can apply for the warrant to lieutenant program and bypass officer candidate school."

Killian stared at him.

Silver nodded. "Or attend officer candidate school if you'd prefer that route and graduate as an ensign. I've made sure District Five headquarters has kept its eye on your performance here at Station Storybrooke. A command of your own someday is not out of your reach."

For a moment, the ghost of the pirate present in every Guardsman tore at Killian's resolve. But something stronger than his ambition vied for his heart—a redheaded Shore girl and a family he'd believed forever lost to someone like him but now found.

"I—I can't, Master Chief. My enlistment's almost finished and I don't plan to reup."

Silver let loose an explosive breath. "Not after all your hard work. Everything you've learned. The training the Guard has poured into you. You can't disregard the potential God gave you."

Killian swallowed past the lump of emotion clogging his throat. Silver had been more than a mentor. He'd been a surrogate father.

Silver leaned forward. "If you and Emma are truly meant to be, why can't she follow you to your next assignment?"

Killian frowned. "It's complicated, Master Chief. She won't—can't—leave here. And I refuse to ask her to make one more sacrifice."

"You love the Guard life, Killian. I know you. You'll never be happy, nor, I suspect, would she, knowing you sacrificed your dreams for her."

"Sometimes dreams change." His gaze locked onto Silver. "Sometimes we trade something wonderful for something of greater value."

Silver sighed. "You're sure this girl's worth the sacrifice? Worth what this will cost you and your career? Don't be hasty in making such a life-altering decision, son. Think on this. Better yet, pray on this. You give me a call anytime and we can sort through the advancement options together."

"I won't change my mind. It's time to go all in or nothing."

A man unused to being told no, Silver tapped his fingers on the table. "I'll give my nephew a call. I expect he'll send you a bank draft right away. I can drive him over next weekend to take possession and he'll probably want to sail to his slip at Annapolis if the weather's good. But, Killian, this conversation isn't over by a long shot."

Killian thought it best to leave the issue alone for now. When he failed to reenlist, the master chief would be forced to accept his decision, like it or not.

A done deal.

No going back. No convincing the bank to extend their generous terms of repayment for even one more week. This time next week, the _Now I Sea_

would belong to the Eastern Shore Bank of America.

She'd have to cancel the summer charters, not that those charters would've been enough to keep up the payments on the boat. And without the boat with which to eke out some semblance of a living, foreclosure on the house would commence by autumn. She'd best start looking for a job.

Maybe someone bayside would hire her on as first mate. The Nolans were known Shorewide for their honesty, faith and hard work. But Dad's and Elsa's paychecks wouldn't stretch far in this economy.

And Nolans did not take handouts.

With a sinking feeling, Emma grappled with the inescapable conclusion she might be forced to go off-Shore to find significant work. She didn't have many skills. She could do the work of any mariner, though. And if worse came to worst, she'd sign on to the crew of an international freighter. If worse came to worst? Emma scrubbed her eyes before pushing open the glass-fronted door of the bank. As if leaving the Shore wasn't already the worst possible consequence.

She emerged only to spot someone down the block who resembled a certain Coastie shaking hands with an older, distinguished gentleman outside the Corner Bakery. Despite the grave news from her mortgage lender, her heart gave an involuntary flip.

Emma lifted her hand to wave. "Kil—"

But the Killian lookalike, with the older man in tow, disappeared in the direction of the Onancock marina. Emma blinked. Couldn't be. She'd thought Killian was on watch today.

The older guy wasn't someone she recognized as being from around here, either. And if he was in the mood for doughnuts and coffee, no way Killian would travel to Onancock instead of visiting Granny's diner for their famous long johns.

She smiled at the memory of Killian's first encounter with a long john. And her lips twitched as she recalled their first encounter—hers and Killian's—with each other. A lot of water under that bridge.

Had it been only six weeks ago? Seemed as if they'd known each other forever. Emma dropped her hand to her side.

She was so silly. So completely resembling every love-struck, doe-eyed woman she'd ever mocked, imagining the object of her affections on every street corner.

Get a grip, Shore Girl. That was what the executive petty officer would've told her.

She cut her eyes to see if anyone else had witnessed her making a fool out of herself. The coast appeared clear until Jefferson Hatter poked his head out of the Tidewater Galleria next door to the bank.

"Emma Nolan."

She halted mid-stride in front of the Realty office. Perhaps if she appeared to be studying the cute bungalow listings taped to the front window, Jefferson would go away. She loved her childhood home, but how sweet some of these homes for sale would be.

"Emma..."

She focused on one home in particular. A big yard for Alex and the puppy menagerie they'd acquired. A ready-made pier for the _Now I Sea_. And the Dutch-style home so fun to renovate and restore with her husband.

Emma rolled her eyes. She'd lost her mind. One moonlight sail and she was ready to renounce her common sense and independence, for what?

For Killian Jones, of course.

She gulped. Because even a mistaken sighting of said Coastie addled her

brain and made her go weak in the knees.

"Emma!"

She jolted as Jefferson Hatter, her former high school art teacher and now owner of the exclusive art gallery, touched her arm.

"Mr. Hatter..." Emma slumped. "You startled me."

The sixtyish retired teacher narrowed his eyes. "You didn't hear me calling your name for the past five minutes?"

She straightened, feeling like the gawky seventeen-year-old she'd been a decade ago. Mr. Hatter had recommended Emma apply to the Savannah School of Design. He'd supervised Emma filling out the scholarship application and had taken it hard when she refused the scholarship in order to stay on the Eastern Shore.

"—so pleased with how you've cultivated the natural talent God gave you. I can see the progress you've made since high school. The surety of the line and shadow. I'm thrilled you've finally agreed to show your work."

"What?" Emma realized Mr. Hatter hadn't stopped talking. "What did you say?"

"Emma, are you all right? You seem—"

"Line and shadow?"

"The birds are so exquisitely rendered, my dear. As clearly delineated as any photograph. Each feather delicately molded onto the paper. And the ruins of the old lighthouse and village?" His chin quivered. "Haunting. Sublime."

Her mouth fell open. How had Mr. Hatter seen her sketches of the deserted barrier island?

Mr. Hatter continued to wax eloquent. "Friday's local artist gallery stroll is going to be the event of the year with your sketches front and center."

She gasped. "My sketches?" "Mr. Hatter raised his eyebrows. "Emma, are you listening to anything I've been trying to tell you? After Friday, you're going to be a sensation. The talk of the town."

Her cheeks burned. She'd be the talk of the entire Shore, all right. And none of it good.

Mr. Hatter had always been her biggest fan and supporter in her artistic endeavors. Some endeavors. Now just foolishness with bills to pay and Alex to take care of.

The desperateness of their financial situation yawned once more at the forefront of her mind. A pit that threatened to swallow her family whole.

She shook her head. "No, Mr. Hatter."

But he ignored her, as he'd ignored her ten years ago.

"I've sent out mailers. Posted, blogged and tweeted. Even contacted a friend of mine who's driving all the way from Baltimore. He's the—"

"You can't do this." Emma placed her hand over her heart. Her mouth felt dry as sand. "Those sketches were never meant for public consumption."

"Your audience is going to eat them up. You'll have art patrons begging for more. They'll fly off the—"

"No."

"Emma, I think your teacher knows best."

Mr. Hatter gave her a look reminiscent of the one he'd bestowed upon her during her junior year of high school. He'd overrode her objections and entered one of her pastels into the state fair. At which she'd won first place and a cash award of fifty dollars.

"It's normal for a person with your artistic temperament to be nervous before a showing. Especially your debut. Totally understandable to want to hide. But talent like yours must be shared with those who appreciate your eye for the natural world."

He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "But—oh, my word, Emma—the raw emotion, the power of the seemingly simple—"

"No!"

She staggered. She had to stop this now. Panic lanced her chest until a slow, burning anger took hold.

Who had dared to take her private work—her soul—to Mr. Hatter and induce him to put it on public display? For the entire world to see. To see and laugh. To pity the misguided attempts of the old maid Nolan sister to recapture a youthful dream.

"Did Petty Officer Killian Jones put you up to this, Mr. Hatter?"

Hatter struck a pose. "Petty officer who? It was your father, Emma. A proud father, I might add, who wants his daughter's talent to get the recognition she deserves."

"My f-father?" She shook her head. "He doesn't know about... I never showed him... It was Mom who encouraged me. He'd be the first to declare my drawings a waste of time."

Jefferson Hatter stroked his chin. "I don't know about back then. But as for now, you may not know your father's heart as well as you think you do."

She tightened her lips. "No matter. I won't do it."

"You're going to have to buck up and get over this fit of temper and self-doubt, Emma." Mr. Hatter folded his arms across his expanded abdomen.

"Excuse me?" She rocked on her heels.

He flung both arms wide. "Are you completely oblivious, or haven't you noticed the full-scale advertising campaign sponsors have posted on every telephone pole up and down Highway 13, not to mention every storefront in a two-county area?"

"I—I..."

She'd noticed nothing. She'd been a gullible, deluded ninny preoccupied by moonlit dreams and a man in a uniform. Busy with salon appointments, dress fittings, mani-pedis...fishing charters, parent-teacher meetings, not to mention keeping a roof over everyone's head.

And now to find herself in over her head...up the inlet in a sailboat without a stroke of wind.

She stamped her foot on the sidewalk.

Mr. Hatter stepped backward. A look of extreme caution—and annoyance—crisscrossed his florid complexion. "Somebody needs to teach you to value yourself. To not despise the talent you've been given. To not waste an opportunity most people—myself included—would die for."

"What're you telling me, Mr. Hatter? There's no way out of this fine mess Dad's hook, line and sinkered me into?"

"I'm telling you it's a done deal. No way out now. Nowhere to hide your talent under a crab pot any longer. Your secret is out. No recourse but to show up to the gallery opening Friday night in something a little less—" Hatter gave her a scathing perusal "—fishing boat. More bohemian. You'll have to grin and bear the compliments which will be flooding your way and be prepared to open your bank account for the checks that'll be rolling in."

She choked. "Checks?"

He fluttered a hand. "I take credit cards, too. Deposited into your coffers, after my commission, of course. Which, I'll have you know, is a pittance of what I charge other artists because of our longstanding relationship and because of course I consider you to be my protégée."

Emma's lips flattened. "Of course."

No worries. No hardworking waterman or -woman would spend real money on such artistic fiddle-faddle. They'd attend as a courtesy to her father. The come-heres, on the other hand? Fair game. And their money, if parted from them, was best left in Eastern Shore hands.

She jutted her chin. "Not even a come-here will waste money on my childish sketches."

"We're going to have to work on that flagging self-confidence of yours." Mr. Hatter threw open the gallery door with a flourish, setting the bells above the entrance a-jingle. "But I'm glad we've got this settled, 'cause like I said, it's a done deal."

She flounced—yeah, a move copied straight out of Elsa's playbook—down the sidewalk toward her Jeep.

A done deal with Hatter, perhaps.

But when she got hold of David Nolan, her father would find out firsthand the true nature of a redhead's temper.

The flyer pinned to the bulletin board at the Four Corners Shopping Center snagged Killian's attention.

Emma Nolan, Local Artist

Debut Showing

 _An Eastern Shore Cradle of Life_

Friday, Memorial Day Weekend

7:00 p.m.

Tidewater Galleria

Jefferson Hatter, Proprietor

Onancock, Virginia

What in the world?

Killian recognized Emma's masterful touch in the tiny pen-and-ink samples reproduced at the bottom of the flyer. His chest expanded.

He'd make sure the station and the chief knew about the event. The auxiliary, her church, she'd have a standing-room-only crowd.

Killian was a touch surprised she hadn't shared this momentous event with him. The sharing of this most private of things with the outside world. But he felt proud of how far Emma had traveled from fear to faith.

Faith in herself and faith in him.

Killian hoped he'd played a big role in helping Emma to view herself as he saw her—beautiful, smart, funny and deserving of the best.

This was a big step on Emma's part. Maybe she'd outgrown the baby steps? Maybe she was ready for the next leg of the voyage. With him.

Still in uniform on a grocery run for the guys at the station, Killian shifted the grocery bags in his arms and headed for his truck. A momentous occasion like this demanded something equally memorable. Emma could be so touchy, so hardheaded, so...

He sighed. Who was he kidding? He lived to see her smile at him. He never tired of studying every nuance of her features. He wanted a lifetime of laughter with her and Alex.

Killian pointed the nose of his truck south on 13, heading for Storybrooke.

He'd been waiting for Eric Merman's check to clear. Pondering how to best approach the situation. The Nolans were so independent and proud.

In the meantime, he'd actually taken to studying the real estate listings and the want ads. He'd gone crazy. Certifiable. Nuts. But his heart zinged every time he contemplated a new life with Emma Nolan at the center of his plans.

With the weather warming, it'd soon be time to let Alex try her swimming skills off the dock. And there was the much-anticipated Nolan family Fourth of July picnic on the island. Elsa had told him of the annual Firemen's Carnival, also in July, a Shore tradition in nearby coastal Wachapreague. David's mouth watered every time the subject of the carnival's clam burgers came up.

Killian grinned. He couldn't wait to get a certain Shore girl to the top of the Ferris wheel. He resolved to tell Emma about selling his boat and—with sharp objects out of reach—share his plan to give David time to regain his financial footing. Without giving Emma any time to bow up, he intended to pledge his undying love and announce his resignation from the Coast Guard.

To be followed, he hoped, by a perfect summer of sand dunes and sea glass with the woman he loved. His heart content for the first time in years, Killian parked beside the station.

Spotting David outside Granny's diner, Killian wasted no time in completing his mission. Leaving the groceries for the moment, he hailed the older man,

who halted at the sound of Killian's voice. Catching up to Emma's father, he drew David farther along the wharf for privacy's sake.

But as Killian opened his mouth, fear slammed his heart into his breastbone. "Mr. Nolan...sir..." David Nolan leaned against a pier piling and waited. Killian licked his suddenly dry lips. "I wanted to talk to you about your daughter."

His gaze darted at the cry of a seagull dive-bombing for a fish in the tranquil water off the edge of the dock.

"Which one?" David snorted. "Although I could hazard a guess."

"Emma, sir." Killian shook his head to clear the cobwebs paralyzing his brain and short-circuiting his tongue. "But first, I wanted to tell you what I've done."

David straightened. "This going to require me getting the shotgun out of storage, Jones?"

Killian's eyes widened. "No." He held up his hand. "Not at all." Though as touchy as the Nolans were about handouts... "At least, I hope not."

David's eyes narrowed. "You hope? What's this about, son?"

Killian closed his eyes for a second. He was messing this up royally. "I've sold my boat."

The silence that greeted his announcement dragged Killian's eyelids open.

David knotted his brow. "And...?"

"I have a cashier's check in my pocket for the amount. Which I want to turn over to you to pay off the mortgage on the _Now I Sea_."

David crossed his arms. "We don't take charity."

"I—I realize that, sir." Killian took a deep breath. "But I'm in love with your daughter."

Killian felt no small measure of relief to finally say the words out loud to Emma's father."

"And?"

Killian went into full military stance, feet together, arms clamped to his sides. "I want to marry her, with your blessing. Sir."

"And...?"

Killian focused his eyes on a pinpoint of marshland across the harbor. "I want to raise Alex as my own daughter, sir."

A chuckle.

His gaze shot to David.

"Glad to hear it. But what's this got to do with selling your boat?" David uncoiled his arms. "Despite appearances to the contrary, dowries aren't required for our daughters here on the Shore. We're not that old-fashioned. Or is this a bribe?"

"No, sir. Not at all. I—"

David's laugh rang out across the water. "Just joshin' you, boy." He clapped a hand on Killian's shoulder. "For what it's worth, you have my blessing. You are a fine young man and I'd welcome you into our family."

Killian fought the sudden tremor in his chin.

David threw Killian a sympathetic look. "But you of all people know that girl of mine's got a mind of her own. Can't rightly answer for her. She's powerfully connected to this place." He sagged. "Though I've finally done what I should've done a long time ago to push my little shorebird out of the proverbial boat. Sink or swim for it."

Killian wasn't sure what David meant by sink or swim, although that summed up his own philosophy about why he'd chosen this current course of action. "I've also decided not to reenlist."

David's eyes enlarged. "What? Killian, you shouldn't... What about your career, son? You love your job."

Killian widened his stance into an at-ease position. "Not as much as I love Emma. She shouldn't have to sacrifice any more of her dreams. Not on my watch, sir. Paying off the mortgage is not a handout but an investment into a new future. I want a life here with her and Alex."

David's eyes grew misty. "You love her that much?"

Killian gave a short nod. "I didn't want her to have to make an impossible choice. Not like she did before."

"You know about Neal?"

Killian dropped his eyes to the weathered planks of the pier. "Aye, sir. She told me."

"She's not the same insecure girl she was then. And I believe if she'd really loved him, no sacrifice would've been too great to be with him. He was safe. He was comfortable."

"And I'm neither of those." Killian cut his eyes at the rugged waterman he'd come to admire. "Question is, does she love me?"

"She's like a flower opening to the sun when you walk into a room." Rubbing his sandpaper jawline, David smiled, sheepish at his unusually poetic turn of phrase. "She loves you. Real question is whether she'll admit it or allow you to love her back."

"I'm prepared to stick around and show her my sincerity and trustworthiness."

"Always prepared, I'll give you Coasties that. And I've observed you already have a peculiar effect on her independent notions." David laughed. "My advice, young man? I'd abandon any plans for a gentle, lapping tide against Emma's shored-up barriers in favor of a more direct hurricane assault."

"Erode her defenses?"

"Sweep her off her feet like a tsunami. And get ready to employ a boatload of patience. Remember, the best fish are often the hardest to catch. Gotta go deep."

Killian nodded. "You might be right. You know your daughter best."

David grunted. "Have you forgotten practically the first thing I ever said to you, son?"

Killian cocked his head. "Sir?"

"Don't try to understand women, my boy. All you can do is love them. You got that, Coastie?"

A smile teased the corners of Killian's lips. "Affirmative, sir."

David sighed. "Fair winds and following seas, son. You'll need them with Emma."

Planting her feet on the planks of the wraparound porch, Emma set the rocker into furious motion. She watched her dad's truck turn off Seaside Road and into the Nolan drive. The tires sprayed a cloud of gravel. Sighting her, her father waved.

A gesture she ignored.

David wheeled to his customary spot, rolled the truck to a halt and shifted the gear to Park. He threw open the door and his feet hit the oyster-shell path with a solid thunk.

Emma tightened her mouth.

David mounted the porch steps. "Hey, Emma. Heard Elsa took Alex to the video arcade. Thought maybe you and I could grab a coffee in Onancock. Talk some."

Emma didn't bother to reply. Or to get up.

He gave a nervous chuckle. "Seems a long time since we spent any time together. Had me an idea I wanted to run past you."

She tapped her fingers on the armrest of the rocker.

He blinked. "I remember how you like that French vanilla joe at the Corner Bakery."

She scowled and thrust back the rocker as she rose. "What I don't like is someone going behind my back. You had no right, Dad."

He stepped back. "I—I—"

"I know what you've done, Dad."

David backpedaled to a lower step. "How do you—"

"Already been to Onancock today. Begging for another extension from the loan officer. Which the bank refused. Ran into Jefferson."

David rubbed his jaw. "About Jefferson..."

"Yes, what about Jefferson Hatter, Dad? The man who's apparently plastered my name and my sketches across every building in two counties." Emma sank onto the step. "Why, Dad? I don't have time for such foolishness when there's bills to pay. Though after next week—" her head dropped forward "—running the boat won't be an option anymore."

David eased down, his joints creaking, beside her. "You deserve more than worrying about mortgages, Alex and me." He gulped hard. "I want everyone to see what I already know about my oldest daughter. What your former art teacher has seen since high school. What I wish I'd taken time to appreciate sooner. To see _your talent_. See your heart like your mom did before she died. See the hope and promise I believe lies in your future."

Emma stared at him. "But Dad...you're not well. Alex and Elsa... The boat? You need—"

"What all of us need is for you to take a good hard look at the wonderful, gifted person God made you to be. You don't have to be the son I never had." David sighed. "I should've never made you feel that you did. Instead, you are the best of your mother and me. A beautiful mix of her creativity and my good looks." He grinned to lighten the moment. "Besides, I'm not sick. Doc gave me a clean bill of health. I'm ready to go back to fishing full-time."

Emma leaned against the railing. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Dad. Next week, there'll be no more boat. No more fishing. No more charters."

David patted the pocket of his denim work shirt. "No need for you to fret. Killian and I got that covered."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "What's Killian got to do with the _Now I Sea_?"

"Killian gave me the money to pay off the bank loan so we can own the _Now I Sea_ free and clear." David withdrew an envelope. He handed it to her. "Didn't have time yet to deposit this at the Onancock bank."

Emma held the envelope between her thumb and forefinger as if the paper might contaminate. "We don't take charity, Dad. Especially not from come-heres and strangers."

"Is Killian a stranger to us, Emma? To you? Is that how you see him?" Emma flushed and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "That's what I thought. Anyway, it's not charity. It's an investment. An opportunity he and I have settled between us."

"But how, Dad? Where did a Coastie get that kind of money?"

"He sold his sailboat."

Emma choked. "He loves that boat. Why would he do that? Why do that for us?"

"Not so much for us." David smiled. "The why is his business. Not my story to tell. You want to know why, you better ask him."

"We—I—can't let him do that. He can't sell his boat."

David shrugged. "Done deal. Worked out to my satisfaction between us men. What you can do, Emma, is get off that high horse of yours in thinking that nobody can take care of the Nolans but you."

"You've been sick." Emma bristled. "And I'm not on a—"

"There's no need for you to mollycoddle me. I've recovered from the heart surgery, and I'm anxious to return to the deck of my boat. You best be tending to your upcoming art show and the Coastie who—God alone knows why—puts up with your fits of temperamental nonsense."

She swallowed. "About the art show, Dad. I appreciate the thought behind your gesture, but I'm not ready to exhibit my sketches. They aren't good enough."

"Pride or fear, Emma. Either of them will ruin you."

Emma lowered her chin. "And as far as courting a Coastie goes? Probably not a good idea. I lose all common sense when I'm around him."

"Sense isn't as common as you think. And way overrated in my humble opinion." He blew a breath between his lips. "Especially for two people so off the deep end in love."

Emma flicked a look at her father's weather-beaten countenance. "Love? I never said I—"

"I'm too old for this." David heaved to his feet. "Suit yourself, Emma, but you may want rethink that by the time Killian gets off watch tonight."

Emma waited, perched in the bay window of the front room. She waited long past Alex's bedtime for the lights of Killian's truck to appear.

But to no avail.

Her cheek planted against the fogged-in glass pane, she awoke at midnight to the realization she'd fallen asleep and missed her opportunity.

But there was always tomorrow, to quote another infamous redhead of Broadway fame. She'd waylay Killian at breakfast and thank him for bailing her family boat out of hock before she lost her nerve.

Unfortunately, Killian proved a no-show for breakfast, too.

Emma swallowed her pride. If the ship wouldn't come into port, then the port would go to the ship. But Elsa caught Emma on her way to the cabin.

"I peeked at your schedule. You don't have a charter till this afternoon." Emma paused in the act of pushing open the screen door. "Dad told me last night about what he's done."

Elsa blew out an exasperated breath. "How did he think we could get you ready for your debut art show with only a day's notice?"

Emma grimaced. "I'm not—"

"Don't even start with me, Emma." Elsa held up her hand. "You and I are apparently the last souls on the Shore who didn't know about this shindig. Everybody is coming. You're not getting out of this, not this time. You're going to have to grin and bear the accolades."

Emma squeezed her eyes tight. "No grinning here. Just bearing it. And I'm not so sure about any accolades."

"I'm sure enough for the both of us. And besides, sister dearest, I got you." Elsa nodded. "We're going shopping this morning."

Emma moaned.

"Yep." Elsa smiled. "Something that says artsy, sophisticated and a bit bohemian."

"I've already got a new dress."

Elsa arched a look. "That was so last week. It won't kill you to have more than one dress in your vastly neglected wardrobe, Emma. And a little paint never hurt any old barn."

Emma made a face. "You know I don't like—"

"La. La. La. La. La." Elsa covered her ears. "I'm going to make a girl out of you, Emma, if it kills me. And with your attitude, it just might."

Emma groaned.

Elsa wagged her finger. "We're not replaying what you put Belle, Aurora and the rest of us through with the auxiliary dance. You can either accept my advice gracefully or you can deal with Jefferson Hatter when you arrive in your cutoffs and Wellingtons. Your choice. Do you want my help or not?"

Emma made a growling sound in the back of her throat.

Elsa squared her shoulders and made an elaborate show of moving toward the stairs.

"Wait..."

Elsa ignored her, one hand already grasping the stair railing.

"Please..." Emma whispered.

Elsa clapped her hands together with a delighted laugh. "We're going to have so much fun."

Much to Emma's surprise, they did.

Elsa talked Emma into purchasing not one but three new dresses. Discounted, but all three Emma's best colors, or so Elsa declared. Perfect for Sunday mornings in church beside Killian—the part that sold Emma on Elsa's selection.

And those strappy sandals really were as cute as Elsa promised. In deference to Emma's personal taste, Elsa managed to find dangly dolphin earrings, too.

"Perfection..." Elsa smiled, altogether too pleased with herself. But Emma had to agree, admiring herself in the mirror at the jewelry counter in Peebles. "Now all you have to do is practice acting artistic and tortured."

Emma sighed. "The tortured part is going to come easier than you imagine."

Elsa sniffed. "This is your night. It's going to be fun, whether you like it or not. So learn to like it."

"I—I—" Emma studied the overall effect. "I like it."

Elsa placed her hand over her chest. "Be still my heart. Have we somehow managed to tap into your inner girlie girl?"

Emma tossed her head to waggle her new earrings. "I like the jewelry."

Elsa laughed. "Who knew all you needed was some bling?"

Emma fingered the matching filigree bracelet. "It's pretty."

"Like you, sweet sister. Killian's going to love the new, improved you." She hugged Emma. "'Cause I happen to know he loves the old tomboy version already."

Emma raised her eyes. "Do you really think he—he..." Her heart skipped a beat.

Elsa embraced Emma. "What's not to love?"

Killian gave the sleek hull of _The Trouble with Redheads_ one more spit and polish for old times' sake.

"Sure about this, Kil?"

Killian cut his eyes at the master chief's favorite niece by marriage, whose husband had just bought the sailboat from him. "I'm sure."

The petite redhead smiled. "This Emma's a lucky woman to have you in her life."

"Not sure she'll agree with you." He wrinkled his nose. "She's touchy about being beholden."

The master chief folded his arms across his chest. "You've told her about your future career plans?"

"Not yet. But I plan to present my case after the gallery showing tonight. Lay the whole thing out under the glow of moonlight."

Ariel laughed. "Pledging—make that pleading—your troth, huh?"

"Something like that." Killian grinned. He'd known Ariel and the master chief's entire family for years.

Ariel patted his cheek. "Eric and I wish you both every happiness in the world."

Killian glanced around. "Where is your husband and my erstwhile best friend?"

Ariel preened. "My adorable husband insisted on a quick trip to the local grocer to purchase a bon voyage party in a basket as we embark on our maiden sail back to Annapolis."

"Shame my nephew couldn't cut it in the Guard and had to become one of those navy squids."

Ariel poked the master chief with her coral-tipped finger. "You Coasties are nothing but a bunch of puddle pirates."

"Hoo-rah!" Killian and his father's best friend high-fived.

Ariel tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Eric loves— We both love his teaching assignment at the Naval Academy. Thanks, though, for driving us down so we can cruise back into harbor, Uncle John."

"My pleasure. Glad it worked out. I needed a word with Killian anyway. Besides, what else are uncles for?" The master chief flicked a look at his watch. "I've got coffee and a long john with my name on it at Granny's diner. Senior Chief Locksley awaits to discuss this latest mission directive from District."

"Soon as I finish, I'll head up 13 toward Maryland."

Killian wiped a streak of grease off Ariel's cheek. "I assume you and Eric will rechristen the boat."

She took the cloth out of his hand. "Are you kidding? The name's what sold him on this keelboat of yours. After being married to moi for six years—" she squared her shoulders "—he knows firsthand about trouble with redheads. And how ultimately worth it we are."

Killian made sure he had her attention before he rolled his eyes. He ducked when she threw the cloth at him.

Silver chuckled. "Sorry about the abrupt change of your plans, Killian. But a temporary emergency change in posting only. Nasty storm headed straight at District Eight, and your senior chief has decided to send any available hands on deck."

Killian exhaled. "You taught me that from the get-go, Master Chief. The Coast Guard doesn't exist for the Coastie, but the—"

"Coastie for the Guard." Silver's mouth curved.

"Aye, aye. I serve at the Guard's pleasure."

"We need you there, Killian, ASAP, or Locksley wouldn't be shipping you out tomorrow on such short notice. But with the Category Four hurricane barreling toward the Gulf Coast, stations all along the seaboard are sending any crew and response boats they can spare."

Killian nodded. "I'll load the boat on the trailer and we'll head out at first light tomorrow."

"I appreciate your flexibility with your enlistment ending so soon. You get this done and I promise not to keep you too long from this lovely place you're determined to call home."

Ariel popped her head out of the galley belowdecks. "You'll invite us to the wedding, won't you, Kil?"

Killian sighed. "If you two would get out of my hair so I can get to a certain gallery showing, perhaps something could be arranged."

Ariel's eyes twinkled.

Silver pursed his lips. "Hate to rush the romance, but—"

Ariel laid her hand upon her brow with a mock groan.

"What?" The master chief's eyebrows arched. "I appreciate heartfelt romance as good as the next man."

Killian's lips twitched. Shaking her head, Ariel disappeared again below deck.

"Don't be too long about your proposal and goodbyes, son." Silver tapped his watch. "You've got places to go. People to rescue. The beginning of the rest of your life to arrange."

Killian took a deep, cleansing breath.

Starting with one especially stubborn, utterly lovable Shore redhead.

Emma hunted through her empty portfolio case to assess what her dad—and Hatter—had appropriated for the showing. The bird and wildlife sketches. The barrier island illustrations and— Emma sucked in a breath at a sudden realization.

She searched the house, but clearly her hiding places weren't such a secret from her father. The pastel of Alex at the water's edge with the tiny sailboat—the yet unfulfilled dream of a summer of sea glass, sunshine and sand—was missing.

No matter what Hatter said, that one wasn't for sale. She'd never part with it. She'd sketched the portrait during long hours of chemo infusions.

During the wee hours of the morning between holding Alex's head over a basin and cleaning up vomit.

The picture symbolized her hope for her niece's future. That drawing was her refuge on the darkest of nights. Faith that summer would come. And with it, new life.

She borrowed a silky mauve blouse from Elsa and donned her best pair of jeans. Time to fish or cut bait with Killian. And—deep breath—ask a certain Coastie to escort her to the gallery showing.

If she could find him.

He'd still not returned to the cabin by lunchtime. Giving herself a few hours before time to pick up Alex at school, Emma stopped by the station.

Behind a monitor, Seaman Apprentice DunBroch smiled when Emma strolled inside. "He's not here."

Emma frowned. DunBroch laughed. "Am I that obvious?"

"Hard to keep a secret around here. Little-known fact about Coasties? Reason we're so prepared and ready for anything is that we're some of the nosiest folks in the fleet." DunBroch grinned. "That and it'd be hard to miss the megawattage smile Boats has been sporting since a certain dance." DunBroch waved her hand. "Yesterday, Boats worked a double shift due to a search and rescue thirty miles off Wachapreague with a stranded freighter on its way from Cape May to Charleston."

Emma heaved a sigh. A relief to know he'd not been trying to avoid her.

"He's off duty barring any more emergencies. But I don't know his current location. Sorry." DunBroch pointed toward Granny's diner across the square. "Chief Locksley and Master Chief Silver are on a coffee break. If anybody knows where to find Boats, it'd be the master chief."

"Emma's eyebrows rose. "A master chief? Here?"

DunBroch shrugged. "Old family friend of our executive petty officer. With friends in high places like the master chief, Boats is going fast and far."

Thanking her, Emma made her way into the always-crowded Granny's diner. Emma nodded to a few watermen who'd returned to harbor with their catch for the day. Elsa had asked for the day off in light of the gallery debut.

One of the waitresses put a quarter in the old jukebox. Laughter, conversation and music drifted Emma's way. Pausing inside the entrance, she scanned the diner. Emma waved to the pastor's wife and a few other women from church.

She spotted Locksley and—her eyes widened—the silver-haired older gentleman she'd seen Killian with earlier in the week at Onancock. The men hunched over steaming mugs of coffee in one of the booths overlooking the marina. She moved toward them.

"...with Zelena."

Emma came to an abrupt halt.

"...perfect timing for the XPO..."

Emma frowned.

"So glad it worked out for him..." Locksley fingered the brim of his cap lying on the table. "But Station Storybrooke and I will be sorry to lose him."

The master chief nodded. "Like Killian says, on to bigger and better things."

Chief Locksley took a sip of his coffee. "I can't believe he sold that sailboat of his."

The master chief shook his head. "For the best in the long run. Won't need it where he's headed."

Her heart pounded. Killian was leaving. Why hadn't he told them? Told her? What was this about Zelena? Had Killian reconciled with his former fiancée?"

A sick feeling welled in her gut. She fought a wave of nausea.

"Best thing for everyone. He'll fulfill his obligations." Silver wiped his lips with his napkin. "...strong sense of duty."

Duty? Obligation? Was that Killian's motivation in offering to pay off the lien on the boat?

Locksley tucked his napkin underneath the saucer. "Quite the catch."

"Last-minute scramble. Change of plans, but—" Silver grinned "—we'll welcome her addition to our family."

Something wasn't right. She didn't understand what she was hearing, but she'd find Killian. Ask him to explain.

Emma shifted and the cashier's check crinkled in the pocket of her jeans. And with a sinking feeling, Emma feared she already did understand.

All too well.

Guilt money at breaking his promises to the Nolans? To Alex and her? She shook the flotsam from her brain. He'd made no promises to her. Only silly dreams she'd created in her own mind.

"...he's with her now at the Yacht Club ready to sail away..."

Emma quivered in shock. Her? Zelena? Here?

Was Emma just another Coastie diversion before he shipped out to bigger and better things? A way to amuse himself for a few months on the Eastern Shore before he returned to Zelena?

Her stomach clenched. Maybe the petty officer's pity for the old maid Nolan sister no one else wanted? Images raced through her mind.

Ice cream. Church supper. Coffee on the porch.

Shame burned her cheeks. How could she have so misinterpreted his kindness for anything else? Was she so desperate for attention that she'd totally misread his intentions? Her chin dropped to her chest.

Emma closed her eyes. Oh, God...

Her hopes beached on the sandbar of reality. How dare she dream of more? How dare she reach for something beyond her current situation?

What man in his right mind would want to take on her problems, Alex and the whole Nolan circus? How could she have been so stupid as to trust a Coastie?

Swallowing past the bile clogging her throat, Emma ran toward the door.

"You want something, dearie?" Menu in hand, the waitress approached. Her forehead pinched. "Emma, you all right, sugar? You look a mite—"

"Emma?" the master chief angled. "Emma Nolan? Where?"

Panic clutched her heart.

Emma braced against the door. Shoving it open, she practically fell through it in her haste to escape. Did everyone know about Killian's plan to leave with Zelena?

Scrambling into her car, she wheeled out of the parking lot past a startled Chief Locksley as he and the master chief emerged from the diner.

Locksley raised his hand. "Emma! I want you to meet—"

Emma gunned the engine and sped out of town and over the Quinby bridge. As she darted across Highway 13 bayside, panic gave way to a smoldering anger that he'd so deceived her. Deceived all of them.

Killian Jones was no better than Alex's father. Less honest than Will Scarlet. He'd toyed with her affections. She might be lonely and pitiable, but she wasn't stupid. She hadn't imagined the moonlight kiss. His flirtations.

Gullible, she'd bought his "rediscovered faith" hook, line and sinker. Good thing he was leaving. Before she'd thrown common sense to the wind and given her heart to the Guardsman with as much foolish consequence as Elsa and Ashley.

Emma rumbled into the parking space at the Yacht Club marina beside Killian's F-250. Jamming the gear into Park, she hurtled from the car. There at the end of the pier, in the last slip, _The Trouble with Redheads_ rode the tide.

Killian and a woman materialized from below deck. The petite, stylish redhead leaned forward and planted a kiss on Killian's cheek. Emma froze.

Zelena.

Laughing, he rubbed the spot with his hand. "I'm ready when you are."

She held out her hand. "I've been ready, Killian, my love."

Killian rummaged in his uniform pocket and withdrew a set of keys. "Make a trade?"

The woman, on tiptoe, hugged him. "I like how you trade."

"Let the adventure begin." He tossed her the keys, which she caught one-handed. "Here's to the beginning of a brand-new future for the both of us."

She saluted him. "I'll be back. Soon."

Killian returned her salute. "I'm counting on that. Lots to do before shoving off."

Waggling her fingers, the woman moved away from him and toward Emma. Jaunty in a wraparound white skirt and navy sailor blouse, the attractive redhead left Emma feeling overly tall, cloddish and hopelessly outclassed. A wave of expensive perfume preceded the woman, who flicked a languid smile Emma's way.

Self-conscious of any lingering fish aroma, Emma shunted aside, giving her a wide berth. The woman's brow puckered, but she crawled into Killian's truck with an ease that spoke of familiarity and intimacy.

Jealousy slithered across Emma's raw nerve endings, making it difficult to regain her breath.

Emma quivered with fury and betrayal. She stalked down the pier to where Killian busied himself on the deck coiling a rope. At the sound of her footfalls, Killian pivoted. A smile washed over his face.

Removing the check from her pocket, she flung it at him. Startled, he missed, and the paper fluttered to the edge of the dock to sink beneath the water.

The smile faded from his eyes. "Emma"

"I don't want your money."

He straightened. "Look, you need the money. Take it. I explained to David—"

"I know about your change of plans."

"Good." He sighed. "Eastern Shore grapevine strikes again. But at least then you know—"

"I know all I ever need to know."

Killian tilted his head. "It's sudden, I'll grant you. Sprung on me, too. But I planned on coming to the gallery showing tonight to explain."

"Nice of you to tell us goodbye. Better than what Alex's father did, taking off without a word." He blinked. "What're you talking about? Are you comparing me to Alex's father?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I overheard the master chief and Chief Locksley talking."

Killian squinted in the bright midday sun. "You met the master chief, then?"

Her mouth flattened. "What really gets me is how you could lie to a little girl—a little girl who had her hopes disappointed for so long—about being here for her."

Killian stiffened. "I'd never disappoint Alex intentionally, Emma. This just came up. Maybe by July—"

"I was stupid to let you into Alex's life. Into our lives."

Grabbing hold of a stanchion, he stepped out of the boat and onto the pier. "Emma, it's not the end of the world."

Maybe not for him, but for Emma? The end of every dawning dream. The end of hope for a life together. She put a hand to her throat. "If you'd only told me you were getting back with Zelena, I'd—"

"Zelena?" His eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you think you understand about me, Emma?"

She flung her arm toward the parking lot and his rapidly disappearing Ford. "Here today, gone tomorrow, Coastie. Till you got a better deal. With Zelena."

He reared. "That's not who you think it is. Let me—"

"Save it for someone who cares."

His gaze raked her. "After what we've been through together—after all we've meant to each other, or so I thought—I'm stunned by the fact you still have so little faith in me, in us."

Emma curled her lip. "I'm on to you."

He seized hold of her. "You're really going to walk away? In a fit of temper and pride without letting me explain?"

"Let go of me, Coastie."

Killian released her arm, one finger at a time. "Have it your way. You always do." He backed away, his hands held in the air. "Shows what fear will do to a person instead of faith." His mouth twisted. "You excel at self-sabotage, Nolan. Kind of like what you did with Neal Cassidy, I imagine."

Lunging, she slapped him.

His head snapped, his face etched with confusion and hurt. The sound of her hand against his skin reverberated across the water. He gaped at her. The imprint of her fingers stamped his cheek.

Emma's palm—and her pride—stung. "Don't you ever compare yourself to him."

"So that's how it is?" Killian adjusted his jaw with his hand. "Bury your head in the Shore sand, Emma. My fault for not listening. Two kinds of people here, right? Those like you who stay." A muscle jumped in his cheek, beating a furious tempo. He scowled. "And those like me who can't wait to get away. At least long enough to allow the both of us to cool down from whatever it is you think you believe."

"I believe I hate you, Killian Jones." She seethed with rage. Ached to smack him again.

His eyes flashed. "You keep telling yourself that, Shore Girl, when you're alone in the moonlight. Maybe a little time stewing in your own juices is best for everyone involved."

He leaped on board _The Trouble with Redheads_. "This has been a whole lot more trouble than I bargained for." She flinched. With a self-deprecating laugh, he stared over the stern toward the open water. "But you're wrong. About me. About everything. Coasties don't quit so easily."

"I've said all I ever intend to say to you, Jones."

Her breath came in short spurts of anger and hurt. She'd never felt like

this, even after Neal died. And if she didn't get away from him this instant, she was going to lose it. She couldn't—wouldn't—allow him to see how deeply he'd wounded her. She refused to let him see her break down.

"Can you not find it in your heart to trust me just a little, Emma? Please..."

At her noisy silence, the light she'd loved in his sky-blue eyes dimmed.

She spun on her heel and raced toward her car.

Killian didn't call out to her. She didn't expect him to.

Had she not learned at her mother's deathbed the only one you could ultimately depend upon was yourself?

Emma pointed the Jeep toward home. Trust no one and you'll never be disappointed. That had worked well for her up until the moment she allowed Killian into her heart. Now she only wanted to crawl into bed and die.

Unload her problems onto someone with broader shoulders.

She slammed her palms upon the wheel. She grimaced. Thinking like that had gotten her entangled with Killian's charms in the first place.

Emma slackened her death grip. What about her faith? When all else failed, only then did she turn to God? Shame lit on her conscience.

 _Cast your cares upon Me._

Emma knew all about casting, except for casting the big stuff. Like Alex's illness. Her dad's. Elsa's future. Refusing to lessen her grip on her own future, on her own self-directed outcomes.

Suffocating, she cranked down the window. She bypassed the main road and whizzed toward Alex's school.

How would she endure the gallery showing? Pretend that all was well when everything most definitely was not well?

And never would be again.

Coasting to a stop at the carpool line, Emma's head fell forward. Pressing her forehead against the steering wheel, she tried to pray, but no words would come.

Life lived in controlling fear was no life at all.

And the overweening anger gave way to a seeping numbness.

Because life without Killian would be even less of a life than she'd lived before.

Raw pain knifed through Killian's gut as he watched Emma reverse the Jeep and drive out of his life forever.

How could he have been so wrong? About her? About a future here?

That Emma believed he'd choose someone like Zelena over her took his breath at how little she trusted him. Trusted in his feelings for her.

Ariel returned with Eric and found him pacing the length of the dock. She took one look at Killian, clenching and unclenching his fists, shoulders hunched. "What's that mark on your face?"

Probing his features, she led him away from the water's edge. With Eric clutching one arm and Ariel the other, they hauled Killian toward the sailboat.

Killian gave a hoarse laugh. The sailboat he'd just sold to save Emma's livelihood. Down payment on a future Emma didn't want. Not with him anyway. A future he'd so foolishly presumed lay before him.

His parents. His brother. Zelena's betrayal.

Why had Killian dared to dream his future stood a chance of happiness in anything outside the Guard and the sea? Killian combed his hand over his head.

Eric tugged him onto the deck of _The Trouble with Redheads_. "You need to take a deep breath and sit down, friend."

"What's happened, Killian? What's wrong?" Ariel's breath hitched and she cast a look over her shoulder toward the parking lot. "Was that Emma? Did something—"

"Nothing. That's what happened." Disoriented, Killian allowed Eric to push him into a seat. "Nothing except my own stupidity. She doesn't... She thinks... I can't believe she—"

His throat constricted. Tears stung his eyes. Killian gazed across the bay where the water glimmered like diamonds. He squeezed his eyes shut at the reminder of a velvet-lined box stashed in the glove compartment of his truck.

"This woman rejected you after your willingness to give up everything for her? Your boat? Your career?" Ariel's lips bulged. "I'm going to hunt that redheaded Shore woman down and then I'm going to—"

"No." Killian surged to his feet. "It's over. She made her position clear from the get-go. I hoped..." He gave his friends a bleak expression. "I need to go. Clear my head. Alone."

Eric touched his shoulder. "Kil, don't. You don't have to go it alone, man. We're here for you. We're always here for you. And when Uncle John —"

"I'm not going to do anything stupid." Killian laughed, the sound without mirth. "Nothing any more stupid than I've already done in allowing another redhead to bludgeon my heart—" He darted his eyes at Ariel. "No offense intended."

Ariel hugged him. "No offense taken, Kil." Releasing him, she stepped back. "You go do what you have to do."

Killian swallowed. "I need to pack my gear at the cabin." His eyes peeled upward at the cawing of one lone seagull that swooped above their heads."

Eric moved closer. "Go pack, and then bunk with us tonight before you ship out tomorrow."

Killian shook his head. "No, you guys are sailing with the tide. Maybe Chief Locksley will okay an earlier departure time for me."

He filled his lungs with the briny sea air. And he experienced with a pang of sadness, a measure of young Will Scarlet's desperation in getting off this strip of land jutting into the Atlantic.

Eric nodded. "Okay, if that's what you want." His mouth curved downward. "I know you don't believe me now, but this will get better, Kil. With time. Not great, but better once you're out on the open water."

Promising to return as soon as possible, Killian headed for his truck. Lurching out of the parking lot, he steered toward the highway and crossed over to the ocean side.

Where had God been when Emma dumped him? Severing his hope and his dream of a new life?

 _I believed this was the new life You wanted for me, God._

And in the crucible of the moment, Killian recognized he had a choice—same as Emma—to trust in God or in himself. To turn away from the God who loved him. Who had always—Killian saw with the certain clarity of hindsight—been there for him.

With Killian—whether he'd had the eyes of faith or not to acknowledge His presence. With him when his parents and his brother died, when Zelena had betrayed him, when Emma had transformed his perspective and claimed his heart.

This same God would be there with him during the dark days ahead. While he rescued those in peril from the wind and the waves of the coming storm. While coming to terms with what a life without Emma and Alex meant.

Killian's mouth trembled at the realization he'd never get to say goodbye to the strawberry-blonde girl. Or fulfill his promise of a lazy Fourth of July on a deserted barrier island. His chest ached. Perhaps that had been God's intention for Killian all along in posting him here at Station Storybrooke? Not a future with Emma. But to rediscover his faith. To help a brave little girl conquer his fears and overcome a lifetime of pain.

And as for Emma's fear and pain...

The first rule Killian had learned in the Guard, which had been reinforced on a nightmarish day in the Florida Keys: save the ones you can. The rest you have to learn to let go.

Killian traversed the Quinby Bridge and drove a complete three sixty around the Storybrooke square. He skirted the post office and Granny's diner. Memories of Emma and the entire Nolan clan assaulted his senses. Driven by a yearning deeper than his unrequited love for Emma, Killian pulled into the parking lot of the white-steepled clapboard church.

Storybrooke...

Faith or fear for the future?

Killian unfolded from the truck cab. With a desperate longing, he rushed toward the sanctuary. The brass knob moved in his hand, and with a sense of profound relief, he entered the holy place. Found the sanctuary unoccupied and fell to his knees at the front of the altar.

In faith, Killian chose to believe his time here was more than a matter of killing time before rotating out to a bigger assignment. Here, he'd found the one who loved Killian most of all. More than any human ever could.

 _You are the one who loves me forever._

This station was more than just a blip on the trajectory of his career. This fishing hamlet a cornerstone in the evolution of the man God meant for Killian to be.

Here, with the sunlight dappling the aged wooden floorboards of the century-old church, Killian chose faith.

 _Oh, God, faith in whatever You desire for me._

Faith in a future Killian couldn't envision, but trusted God had in control.

God—not his first love, the sea—remained the only love in his life who hadn't let him down. Would never let him down. And because his God was so good, God had chosen Killian for a work of great significance. To help others on the sea.

His calling. His purpose. Dust motes danced in the air. Killian breathed deeply of candle wax and the leather of the big Bible on the altar.

As long as he could hear the crash of the waves, he'd do fine. Better than good now that God reigned in his life. Killian bowed his head. God...

The only reason a Coastie like him could ever be always prepared and ready. Killian consoled himself with the thought that women were trouble he didn't need in his Coastie life. But his heart hurt.

And as far as strawberry ice cream, strawberry fields and strawberry blondes?

Head in his hands, Killian's shoulders shook.

Until a God-planted notion arose. One last act of love he'd not give Emma the opportunity to reject. Something he prayed God would use in Emma's heart to work out His purposes, whatever they were for Emma's life.

Taking a deep breath, Killian gripped the altar railing and staggered to his feet. One last stop to make in Onancock before he followed his new orders. Leaving his heart behind forever with a Shore girl and a life never meant to be his.

Somehow, Emma collected Alex from school. She'd functioned on automatic pilot since leaving Killian at the Yacht Club marina.

Scary to realize how little of the drive home she remembered. In the backseat, Alex chattered like a squirrel about her and Killian's big plans for next week when school let out for summer. And she nattered on and on about the much-promised Fourth of July picnic on the barrier island.

Emma's stomach knotted at having to explain to Alex there'd be no picnic. Not for her and Killian. But she couldn't deal with that now. She'd explain over the weekend. Once this art farce ended.

Somehow she endured the makeup session, surprising Elsa with her lack of resistance. She sat still as a statue during Elsa's mani-pedi, earning a pleased if confused smile from her.

Elsa brandished the hairbrush. "We'll leave it nice and flowing like Killian—"

"Put it up," Emma insisted, coming to life for the first time. "In a bun. Tight. Pin and spray it."

And driving toward the gallery as a family, Dad cut his eyes over to Emma in the front seat.

"Where's Killian?" Alex asked, over and over.

She kept her gaze plastered to the passing highway signs. "I don't know."

Elsa caught her dad's eye in the rearview mirror. "I haven't seen Killian all day."

David tightened his hold on the wheel. "I'm sure he'll meet us there. Probably busy with work. But Killian wouldn't miss Emma's big night."

Emma dug her fingernails into her palms.

Reaching over the seat, Elsa touched her shoulder. "Are you okay, sis? Nerves are only natural. Don't worry about Killian. He's never let us—you—down yet. He's probably waiting for us at the gallery."

But he wasn't. As Emma knew he wouldn't be. Because he'd already let her down in the most fundamental of ways.

The Tidewater Galleria buzzed with snatches of jazz, the clink of glasses and conversation. Jefferson Hatter had gone all out for his former star pupil. The gallery was filled with friends and quite a few people she'd never met before. Hatter greeted a bearded fifty-something professor type like long-lost royalty.

Come-heres perused the mounted canvases and debated the motivation behind Emma's hitherto secret world.

Hors d'oeuvres flew off the trays. Checks were written at a dizzying pace. Jefferson's assistant affixed sold signs to the dozen or so framed illustrations purchased.

Emma scanned the two-room gallery for Alex's portrait, only to realize Hatter had already sold the pastel.

"Sold," Hatter informed her with an annoyed look in the midst of tallying a receipt for another come-here. "Sold and removed prior to the debut. In this economy, we don't refuse any takers."

Emma watched the hands of the driftwood clock tick inexorably past eight o'clock. Would this never end? She cast a desperate look around the standing-room-only showing.

With the Memorial Day weekend festival rocking the Onancock marina, the nightlife—and this show—promised to continue until midnight. She calculated her chances of escape. But as the artist in residence, there would be no eleventh-hour reprieve for her from the noisy and intrusive if admiring reviews of her soul on display.

She closed her eyes and longed for the quiet, peaceful barrier island shores. Longed for the lap of the water against the _Now I Sea_. Longed for the summer that would never be.

Emma swallowed down the yearnings of her heart and once more tried to concentrate on her immediate surroundings. Her reality.

The professor type droned in her ear. Something about birds. "The line and shadowing, remarkable... Have you ever worked in watercolors?"

Perhaps the question was rhetorical, as he rambled on about scope and scale. Emma's eyes skimmed the crowd, her traitorous heart searching for one face despite her resolutions.

"...glossy readership of over ten thousand. Online edition more in the range of..."

She spotted her dad talking with a woman from church. One hand clamped on Alex's shoulder, David anchored the girl in place and out of trouble. She was thankful for small mercies. Alex on the loose amid the delicate sea-glass sculptures, paintings and pottery was a nightmare waiting to happen.

"...CEO interested in expanding the line with a print version of the outdated field guide..."

Now that she was well—thanks be to God—Emma had an uncomfortable feeling Alex would give her a run for her money. Something she'd have to manage alone.

"When my old buddy Jefferson called, I never dreamed anyone from this backwater..."

Numb, she rubbed her forehead. Would someone rescue her, please, from this Baltimore art snob?

Elsa wove her way through the gathered throng of art lovers. Emma allowed Elsa to pull her into a sheltered corner near the front window. "Headache? Maybe we should loosen the bun, Emma ."

Emma shook her head.

Elsa waved to the reverend and several waitresses from the diner. "Look—" she pointed out the window"

"—the Guard contingent has arrived, too."

Emma tensed as the bell above the entrance jangled.

Like her nerves.

Elsa sniffed. "Chief Locksley, I recognize. DunBroch. Humbert and his wife. But the others..."

Emma went ramrod stiff as the master chief strolled inside. With Zelena. The ultrafeminine redhead poised on the threshold and called to someone on the sidewalk beyond Emma's line of sight.

Her jaw dropped, and then Emma closed her mouth with a snap. Killian Jones had the nerve to come to her gallery showing. And with his fiancée...

Emma's blood boiled. She clenched her fists.

Elsa took hold of her arm. "What's wrong? Talk to me, Emma."

The redhead pivoted. Arching her brow, the woman slid her hand into the crook of a man's arm. The man she'd apparently been waiting for. The door whooshed shut behind them with another clang of the bell.

But where was Killian?

Emma darted her eyes around the gallery. The redhead towed the man toward Emma, frozen in position beside Elsa. "You must be the Emma Nolan I've heard so much about."

Emma's fingertips sizzled. Killian had discussed her—them—with Zelena?

The redhead extended her hand. "I'm—"

"I know who you are," Emma rasped, half turning away.

The redhead dropped her hand. "No, I don't think you do. That's why Eric and I came tonight. I've never seen Killian so upset."

Emma flitted a glance at the handsome thirty-something man at the redhead's side. He patted the redhead's hand. "Now, Ariel. Don't go ballistic." He sighed. "Exact reason I'm not renaming the boat."

"Boat?" Emma took a breath. "Aren't you Zelena?"

The redhead sighed. "That's the point. No, I'm not. I'm Ariel Merman. This is my husband, Eric Merman, Master Chief Silver's nephew. We've been friends since my husband and Killian were kids. And today, Eric bought _The Trouble with Redheads._ " Ariel tapped the lapel of her husband's oxford shirt. "And the boat's name, I promise you, one redhead to another, will be changed one way or the other."

Emma rocked back. Not Zelena. Old friends of Killian's. Not what she'd thought.

"What's going on here?" Elsa grasped Emma's hand. "Killian sold his boat? Why? Killian loves that boat."

Eric Merman smiled. "'Cause my best friend informs me he loves something—someone—more."

She replayed the conversation she'd overheard between Locksley and the master chief. Could the "her" they'd referred to have been the boat? Not Zelena? A sinking feeling threatened to swamp Emma.

But she'd not misinterpreted his leaving. Emma stiffened. "I may have got the Zelena part wrong. But I wasn't wrong about the here today, gone tomorrow part." She crossed her arms. "Killian doesn't love me enough to stay."

Ariel Merman's eyes flashed. "Or you love him enough to go."

"Now, Ariel." Eric stepped between the women. "It's a temporary emergency reassignment due to the hurricane headed toward the Gulf."

"Haven't you watched the news this week, Emma?" Ariel maneuvered around him. "Or are you possibly the most self-absorbed human being on the planet? You've broken his heart."

Emma took a step forward. Elsa grabbed her arm.

"Killian decided not to reenlist." Ariel mirrored Emma's stance. "He planned to give up his career with the Guard for you!" She shouted the last two words.

Heads revolved. An awkward silence followed as conversation ebbed. The master chief broke off from a Coastie grouping and hurried over.

"Clash of the redheads," Eric murmured at his uncle's raised look. "Emma's riled Ariel's Irish."

Emma gaped at Ariel Merman. "His career? I never asked him—"

Ariel's lip curled. "You didn't have to ask. That's how much trust he put in your love. His boat. His love. His future."

David abandoned the Storybrooke widow. "What's going on? Emma?" His gaze ping-ponged. "Elsa?"

Elsa shook her head. "I'm not sure. Something about Killian being reassigned. He's leaving. An emergency."

David gripped Emma's arm. "Did you know about this? Is that why you've been so—"

Emma shook herself free. "I won't let him abandon his career. Not for me. Where—" She whirled, as if expecting Killian to emerge from the back room.

Silver shook his head. "He planned to ship out at first light, but he asked to head out this evening instead. Said he couldn't wait any longer." Emma winced. "He was going to pack his things and leave."

Panic slashed her heart.

She'd never told him how she felt. Instead, she'd hurled outrageous accusations at him. He wasn't anything like Alex's father. Killian Jones, willing to sacrifice his boat and his dreams for her, was the finest man she'd ever known."

"I've got to find him." She surged past the master chief and the Mermans.

But was there any point in finding him? In stopping him? Telling him— Emma paused at the door. What would she tell him? That she loved him? Enough to leave her home to go with him?

Hot tears prickled her eyelids.

Someone laid a hand on her shoulder. Emma turned. Her dad.

"Fight for what you want, Emma. If Killian's what you really want—and I think he is—don't let him go. Don't be afraid." He pressed the car keys into her hand.

Her lips trembled. Fear had always been her problem. She leaned her forehead against the glass door.

She loved Killian. Loved him enough to go with him?

Oh, God...help me to believe in a future outside these shores. Beyond my fear.

Ariel Merman touched her hand, locked around the key ring. "Life is always a step of faith, Emma."

With a quick backward glance over the gathered crowd, Emma searched the sea of faces. "But Alex?"

"Over here, Mimi."

Alex perched atop Jefferson Hatter's immaculate wood-grained eighteenth-century English desk. Her Sunday-shoe-clad feet dangled over the side.

Jefferson grimaced, but made an expansive gesture. "Go. I'm on Alex duty till midnight."

David wrapped his arm around Elsa's waist. "We'll find our own ride home."

Gulping, Emma pushed open the door and headed for home. Twenty minutes later, she wheeled into the Nolan driveway, past the house and toward the wooded cabin.

The cabin lay dark, hunkering in the perimeter of the maritime forest. Emma flung herself out of the Jeep and hurtled toward the porch. But she knew, even before she yanked open the door, that Killian was gone.

Already the cabin wore an abandoned, desolate air. Like her heart.

She shook her head and fumbled for the light switch. Not abandoned. She'd driven him away with a lie. The lie that she hated him.

But she didn't hate him. She almost wished she did, because if she truly hated him, her heart wouldn't hurt so bad. A ripping, contorting pain stole her breath.

She stumbled past the small dining table and toward the lone bedroom.

An etched silver picture frame leaned against the doorsill. She sank to her knees with a muffled cry. The portrait of Alex at the edge of the tidal creek. Her red head bent over a tiny, furled sailboat. Her hand in the act of launching the boat toward a distant shore.

Her hand trembled as her finger traced Alex's face and the outline of the barrier island ruins. Emma plucked the sticky note attached to the side.

"My gift in lieu of summer's promise. Fair winds, Emma, while I follow the sea."

A sob caught in her throat. Killian understood how much this painting meant to her. He'd bought the pastel. For her.

Dad had been right—her pride and her fear had been her ruination. She'd lost Killian's love forever. He was gone.

 _July 4_

The gentle blue-green waters of the tidal creek lapped against the sides of the _Now I Sea_ in the soothing cradle of the waves she'd known since birth. A breeze floated past her nose, smelling of sea salt and brine. Her feet rooted to the gritty beach, Emma tucked a runaway curl into the folds of the flowery purple headband.

Her hair hung long—the way Killian liked it—and fluttered out behind her like a kite in the wind. Sand crabs skittered in the sand of the deserted barrier island. She tugged at one of the silver hoops gracing her earlobe.

In the month since Killian had left them—left her—she'd stayed away from this island with its coastal village ruins, only returning today under duress. She no longer craved the isolation of this forgotten shore where she could think her own thoughts. Her thoughts these days were too full of if-onlys and might-have-beens. Nature's beauty failed to soothe the aching restlessness of her heart.

Here she was haunted by everything she'd lost because of her fear and her pride.

Emma's eyes swept over the rotting stumps of the island dock and the long-abandoned husks of boats moldering at the water's edge. Her paintbrush traced the outline of the remaining stone foundations onto the canvas. Come autumn, in order to fulfill the terms of her illustration contract, she'd have to return and photograph the migratory birds on their stopover to more southern climes.

Beyond the dunes, the ocean waves churned and crashed against the opposite shore. Out of habit, she glanced at the cell phone on her easel before remembering the lack of coverage. But she'd grown accustomed this summer to examining her phone for a text or a missed call.

And every night, she watched the evening news.

The hurricane had decimated the Gulf Coast. Damage was estimated to be in the millions. Coast Guard helos had saved countless lives airlifting victims trapped in flood-ravaged communities. Rapid-response boats performed outright sea rescues from sinking freighters wrecked and grounded by shifting sandbars. She'd monitored the broadcasts, hoping against hope for a glimpse of Killian using his training and skills to make a difference for those perishing.

She felt as though she was perishing.

And she'd grown accustomed to her dreams being dashed as time passed with no word from Killian in response to her messages. After a third unanswered message, she'd stopped trying to contact him. Although she couldn't relinquish a stubborn thread of hope that he'd give her—and them—a second chance.

She often thought back to that morning in April—the day Killian had walked into her life and transformed her world. But after the things she'd said, there was no undoing the damage she'd caused to their relationship. She could only move forward.

The problem was, she'd spent the past few weeks trying to wrap her mind around going forward without Killian.

She'd promised Alex that one fine summer day they would visit the island. They'd have a picnic on the Fourth of July. Hunt for shells. And she'd paint the landscape to her heart's content while Alex ran across the dunes. Happy, healthy. Whole.

Not that any of them were happy without Killian as part of their lives.

Emma threw the paintbrush onto the tray. She was being paid to do what she loved best. Sketch and paint. But she'd lost the one she loved the most. He'd taken her heart with him when he'd sailed forever out of her life.

Her dad brought Alex to the island this summer when she lacked the heart to do so. Elsa hunted for shells with Dad and Alex.

On this perfect summer day, the three of them had finally eroded her resolve and brought her here for a family picnic to celebrate the nation's independence.

She'd spent many lonely days and nights grieving Killian's loss. Falling on her knees and crying out to God in repentance of her pride, her fear, her lack of faith. The weeks provided plenty of time to surrender her illusion of control.

Worse yet? Everywhere on the Shore seemed chock-full of memories, sights and sounds of their time together. She avoided the Coast Guard station like scurvy. She avoided a lot of places in her much-beloved Eastern Shore home. Not so beloved without Killian in it. Not home—she made the belated discovery—without Killian to share life with her.

For the thousandth time, she wondered what distant shoreline Killian currently called home. But wherever Killian found himself, she prayed for his safety and happiness. Even if that happiness didn't include her. And she prayed with Alex, hands folded and knees bent, at bedtime each night.

Because Alex insisted Killian would come back to them. "Killian promised we'd go sailing to the island, Mimi. We're going to swim. Build sandcastles."

Sunshine. Sea glass. And summer.

From a child's mouth to God's ears. She'd whispered her own silent plea.

Alex jutted her jaw in a familiar pose of defiance. "Killian doesn't break his

promises."

Trying to spare her niece's feelings, nonetheless she'd pointed out the unlikelihood of that possibility. Alex had told Mimi she needed more faith. But on this holiday of summer, Emma had yielded her last bit of secret hope and come with them to the island.

A wind-borne shriek drew her attention to where Alex chased a sandpiper on the ridge of a dune.

She had Alex. Healthy. Swimming off the Nolan dock. A regular rescue swimmer in the making, thanks to a certain Coastie.

"Look, Mimi!"

Alex waved the large conch shell she'd found. Emma waved back.

Emma spotted Elsa through the arching fronds of the sea oats as her sister combed for driftwood among the ruins of the lifesaving station. They'd come to a meeting of the minds regarding Elsa's future. Elsa would take classes at the community college as she wished, save her earnings from Granny's diner and remain at home to achieve her dream of one day reopening the Nolan family lodge as a fisherman's vacation destination. And August Booth had come a-courtin', as David Nolan phrased it.

Yet more than once Emma had caught Elsa gazing off into nothingness, her sister's thoughts far away. Because Emma wasn't the only one nursing wounds and avoiding Station Storybrooke.

But they had each other and their father.

With fondness, Emma glanced toward the _Now I Sea_ anchored in the crystal cove. Lounging in the captain's chair with the brim of his ball cap pulled over his eyes, David propped his feet on the wheel.

Better, stronger, he'd taken back command of the charter business. And begun to spend a great deal of time

calling on a certain fellow church member.

A widowed female church member.

"You can't beat 'em, join 'em," David muttered when Elsa teased him.

The restlessness gripped Emma once more. Abandoning the canvas, she surged forward. The sand sifted between her toes. The only thing she'd learned that helped was to move and to pray.

Because finally, upon reaching the end of herself and her fears, she had God. Always with her. With Him in her life, she'd never be truly alone.

She'd done a lot of praying for wisdom, for direction—something she should've done much earlier instead of allowing her insecurities, fear and pride to reign over her faith. Time to move forward in faith, to trust God to be enough and to quit wallowing in what wasn't meant to be.

To let go gracefully of what was never meant to be.

Emma stuffed her feet into her lavender polka-dot flip-flops. Her metamorphosis this summer as she'd embraced her inner girlie girl had been fun, thanks to Elsa. And the only bright spot in these weeks of unrequited longing.

She had also begun to draw the attention of former childhood playmates from Little League days. Attention wasted, from Emma's point of view. Because there was only one man whose attention she yearned for—a Coastie gone from her life as quickly as he'd entered it.

Emma retrieved the plastic bucket with which Alex and Elsa had hunted for sea glass earlier. She strolled farther away from the moored _Now I Sea_ , pausing now and again to examine a particularly striking shell. Beyond an outcropping of land, blue glass glinted in the sand. She ambled closer.

Bending and then straightening, she held the blue-green glass at eye level and peered through. Her lilac sundress whipped around her legs as a sudden gust of the ever-present wind buffeted a lone white sail rounding the curve of the beach.

Lowering her arm, Emma blinked, dazzled at the abruptness of the sight. What in the world?

Alex shouted from the ridge above. Elsa hurried forward and dragged her to the ruined lighthouse and out of Emma's sight. Emma swiveled toward the small sailboat. Her eyes widened as the boat drew closer.

 _Seas the Day_ , the boat read.

And Killian Jones, in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, sat at the stern of the boat, his hand on the tiller.

His gaze swept across the beach, zeroed in on Emma standing stock-still in her tracks and lingered. The tiny sailboat—much, much smaller than _The Trouble with Redheads_ —slowed to a standstill as Killian lowered the mast and dropped anchor.

Emma's heart pounded at the look in his eyes. Hope, love and faith swelled between them.

Breathing a prayer of thankfulness, she dropped the bucket and started toward the water. She kicked off her flip-flops and plunged into the surf as the current swirled around her ankles. Sliding her feet forward, she went deeper until the water licked at her calves.

"Stop." He held up his hand. "Wait..."

The wind snatched away the rest of his words.

She froze and clenched her fist around the glass fragment clutched in her hand. The glass pierced her skin, but she hardly acknowledged the pain. Emma's insides twisted.

Had he returned for her? Or only to fulfill his promise to Alex?

After dropping anchor, Killian toed out of his boat shoes. Arching his arms above his head, he dived headfirst off the transom and into the blue-green water.

She held her breath until he emerged from beneath the waves. Turning his face to the side, his long arms ate up the distance between them. He sliced through the water with powerful, steady strokes.

Finding his footing, he rose from the depths of the inlet. The T-shirt clung to his muscled chest. His dark hair plastered to his head, he swiped his face clear of the rivulets of water streaming down his body. He strode forward, stopping an arm's length away. His gaze never stopped examining her. But his sky-blue eyes waited, a trifle wary.

Why didn't he say something? Where had he been these past few weeks? Why hadn't he called?

She dug her toes beneath the warm water to maintain her balance, resisting the pull of the current. But something, long withheld, broke in her heart. Would no longer be denied.

"I love you, Killian." She gave him a tremulous smile. "I've always loved you. But I've been stupid and cowardly and afraid—"

He made a motion of protest.

"It's true. And I pray you will forgive me for the horrible things I said to you." She swallowed. "As I've prayed to God to give me faith, not fear. For another chance to say to you what's been in my heart." Emma tightened her hands at her side. "I prayed that you'd return if only so I could tell you—"

"I'm sorry, Emma."

Her heart plummeted along with her hope. "I—I understand, Killian." She folded her arms across her chest. "Thank you for not breaking your word to Alex about this picnic today. You mean the world to her."

"You misunderstand me, Emma." His tone bordered on amused. "Seems like we can't stop getting our signals crossed."

Her head snapped up. She flushed, but the expression that flickered across his face reignited her hope.

"I love Alex, but I came back because of you. You and me." His voice rasped over his unaccustomed emotion.

"When I didn't hear from you..."

"That's what I'm sorry about. It's been chaotic in the Gulf since the storm. The cell towers were destroyed and communication with the outside world was disrupted."

Her eyes darted toward the _Seas the Day_. "So you went ahead with the sale of _The Trouble with Redheads_?"

Killian squared his shoulders. " _The Trouble with Redheads_ was part of my old life. When you wouldn't accept my gift, I used the money to buy something smaller but still with plenty of room for the three of us." He bit his lip. "Maybe one day, God willing, more than the three of us. Because it was never a question of me loving you. I always intended to return. But it's been a long month of getting my life ready for you and Alex. The mission lasted longer than I anticipated."

She rose on her tiptoes in the water. "You love me?"

He sighed. "Shore Girl, how long will it take me to teach you to see yourself as I do?" Tears welled in his eyes. "How long to show you, my darling Emma, how much I love you?"

She choked past a half laugh, half sob. "Maybe a lifetime, God willing."

He favored her with a boyish smile. "Didn't I tell you Coasties don't quit?" Then his teeth flashed, buccaneer-style. "We don't give up so easily."

Something broke, the last barrier demolished in her heart. And suddenly she was done with holding back. Holding back her emotions, her heart, her life.

He'd come back. He loved her. And secure in his love, the barricades of a lifetime washed away.

She opened her palm and allowed the jagged piece of glass to slide out of her hand. The glass dropped with only a small sound into the shimmering blue-green waters she'd loved since birth.

Without a backward glance, Emma flew across the remaining water dividing them and leaped into his arms. "Miami..." She twined her arms around his neck. "Kodiak..."

He crushed her against him.

Emma's lips grazed his earlobe. "Wherever the Coast Guard stations you, I want to be there." She brushed her mouth across his jaw. "Because from now on, home for me is where you are. If you'll have me."

The corner of his mouth curved against her cheek.

"Are you proposing to me, Shore Girl? Is this how you court Coasties? Or is this just how Emma Nolan does things?"

She pulled back to get a better look at his face. He didn't let her drift far, keeping a tight hold on her. She blushed at the teasing look on his face.

Emma playfully slapped his shoulder. "Don't you dare tell Elsa. She'll kill me." She sighed. "I'm afraid this is more how Emma does things and not so much Eastern Shore."

He laughed. "Well, I happen to love how Emma Ruth Nolan does things. Like how she takes care of her family." Killian leaned in. "Like how she paints and captains a boat. I love how she smells...like key lime pie." He winched a tendril of her hair around his index finger. "I like how her hair feathers in a sea breeze, long and wavy and—"

"And red?" she joked.

His eyes rounded. "I love redheads."

She sniffed. "So you say now."

He unwound her hair from his finger and traced the contours of her cheekbone. "So I'll say forever more."

Killian captured her face in the palm of his hand. "But most of all, my beautiful Shore girl, I'd have to say what I love most about you..."

Emma's heartbeat accelerated. The eyelet hem of her dress trailed in the tide. "Yes?"

He gave her a smile that made her go weak in the knees. "The thing I love most about you would be your kisses."

She arched her brow. "I don't think you ever answered my question, Coastie. Answer first. Kisses second."

A muscle in his cheek twitched. He let go of her long enough to rake one hand over his wet Coastie buzz cut. "My answer has always been yes. I have plans to send your family home on the _Now I Sea_ this afternoon and ask my own question proper-like under the glow of the moonlight. And I'll have you know I've already spoken with your father."

Now her eyes widened in surprise.

He rolled his eyes. "Aye. In May."

She cut her eyes to the dunes behind her and across the cove to where the _Now I Sea_ anchored. Her father had disappeared discreetly below deck. Elsa and Alex were nowhere in sight.

Emma pursed her lips. "And exactly how did you know where to find me today, Killian Jones?"

He grinned. "I have my sources."

She sputtered. "Do you mean to tell me Elsa Ava Nolan and my father let me moon about—"

"You been mooning over me, Shore Girl?" This time he planted his lips against her cheek. "Good to hear. I've been mooning over you, too." He caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I came home to you and Alex

as soon as I could. Took longer than I expected. And I wasn't entirely sure if I'd be welcomed when I set sail today." He took a deep breath. "But I'm not reenlisting, so we can stay here on the Shore with your family. I know how much you love it here."

She shook her head. "No, Killian. You can't give up your career. Not for me. I won't let you sacrifice yourself."

"It's not a sacrifice to give up something good for something better. My future is with you and Alex. To be where you feel happy and safe. I finally found my true home with you and Alex in this place." He smiled. "I also heard about your illustration contract. I'm so proud of you letting your talent shine."

"The book contract and the series that follows allowed us to renegotiate the lien on the boat. My art can be done anywhere. And I feel happiest and safest with you."

She attempted to stamp her foot for emphasis, forgetting for a moment the both of them stood knee deep in the water. "You're going to call Master Chief Silver as soon as we get off this island and reup."

"But, Emma—"

"But nothing."

She placed her hand over his T-shirt, pleased to feel his heartbeat quicken at her touch. "Will you let me do the 'wherever you lead, I'll go' thing or what? It'll be fun."

Killian cocked his head. "Bossy much, Nolan?"

"I'm ready for a new life. With a Coastie. How about you?"

"How many times I have to tell you, Shore Girl, a Coastie's always—"

"Ready," she finished in unison with him.

"You're really going to make this Coastie wait for a kiss in the moonlight?"

"Nah...but you'll make the call later?"

"If that's the price for a kiss, then yes."

She laughed. "How about I show you how much I appreciate your service to your country, Coastie Jones?"

He gave her that lovely, lopsided smile of his. "How about you do that, Shore Girl?"

Emma's lips parted and his mouth found hers. A sweet fusion of tenderness and joy rocketed into the marrow of Emma's bones.

"Me-meee!"

Both of them jerked apart. He swung Emma around to the beach.

Alex kicked off her flip-flops. Elsa raced after the little girl, yelling her apologies. But as usual, Alex was too fast. She beat Elsa to the water and splashed her way toward Emma and Killian.

"I can hold my breath underwater a long time now, Killian! I can go deep. Deeper's better."

"Emma planted her hands on her hips. "Alex..."

Killian kept his arms hooked about her waist. "The girl's got the right idea, Mimi. Are you ready to go deep?" His eyes shone upon her with mischief and love.

Emma nodded. "Like a Coastie, a Coastie's wife is always prepared."

Taking a deep breath, she allowed Killian to plunge her into the depths of the blue-green water. Her hair floated like seaweed behind her.

Alex dog-paddled to their location and launched herself onto Killian's back. Killian tugged Emma to the surface. He helped her find her footing.

"Do it again." Alex wrapped her cornstalk-thin legs around Killian's torso. "Let's do it again with me." His eyes danced like twin blueberries bobbing on the water.

Killian rested one hand on Alex's kneecap. The other he kept loose around Emma's shoulder. Killian's eyebrow rose in a question mark.

"Well?" He grinned at her. "What do you say?"

Emma snuggled into the two most important men in her world, completing their circle of love.

She smiled at them. "Let's."


End file.
